1981
by Iva1201
Summary: The last year of the first Voldemort war at Hogwarts – from a staff meeting in April 1981 to January 1982. Main focus on the new employed Professor Snape who is desperately trying to reign his anger with a certain Headmaster. Canon till the end of HBP.
1. Genuine Friends

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 1: Genuine Friends**

_**Author's note: **__Chapter 1 was betaed by InkandPaper and cardigrl – thank you both! Thanks go also to Esmestrella for her helpful comments on cardigrl's Lifejournal. _

_**Summary of 1981: **__The last year of the first 'Voldemort war' at Hogwarts – from a staff meeting held in April 1981, to January 1982 with main focus on the newly-employed Professor Snape. No original characters if I could avoid using them, absolutely canon until the end of HBP; DH acknowledged partly. _

_In essential, 1981 is my try to answer the open questions from books 1-6. DH is not my favourite book, I am afraid, especially because of its lack on answers. Hopefully, 1981 can at least partially remedy for it. (-: DH compatible is Snape's longtime friendship with Lily and him knowing Petunia Dursley as well as some other details. Incompatible is manipulative but still rather kind Albus Dumbledore. _

_**Reviews: **__Yes, please.__ I found out that I really appreciate feedback! (-:_

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own any of the characters you are going to encounter here. __**This applies to all the chapters.**_

_Now, enjoy!_

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Dungeons _

_Late June 1992_

A strict-looking lady dressed in tartan knocked on the door in front of her. Once – twice – three times.

"Severus Snape, I know you're in there! Open this door!" She hammered on the door again, sounding slightly impatient. _It isn't that late, _she thought.

The door creaked open, revealing a much younger but equally severe-looking man, clothed all in black. "What do you want, Minerva?" he scowled. "I am in no mood for friendly chatter. Come again tomorrow when the brats are away, or, even better, next week. I may be better company by then."

This said, the man tried to close the door. Minerva didn't let him; ignoring his protests, she pushed her way inside.

"What else does one expect from a Gryffindor?" muttered the man, with a frown.

"I heard that, Professor!" Minerva turned abruptly. Her tone was as strict as her face, but Snape noticed the suppressed amusement.

"Minerva..." he began.

"Oh, forget it. I know why you said it. Strange as it may sound, I'm not at all proud of my students. And I don't agree with Dumbledore's decision either, in case you were wondering." Minerva smiled sadly at him, and was glad when her younger colleague finally waved his hand in the direction of the sofa by the fireplace.

As always, the dungeons seemed cold to Minerva, and she immediately pointed her wand at the fireplace. Surprised, she realised that Severus had ordered drinks; a house elf started to serve them. Snape observed her with a curious look, his bad mood apparently disappearing for the time being.

"I trust _congratulations_are in order, Professor McGonagall," he said in his familiar velvety voice, glass raised. Minerva noticed that the voice lacked its usual sarcasm, instead sounding rather disappointed. She suddenly felt worse.

"Severus, not like this, if you will ... Dumbledore meant well, I think, but he is not the one who has to deal with those children on a regular basis. How many times has he spoken to Potter this year? Once? Twice? In the hospital wing earlier this week, after that Quidditch match you refereed, and perhaps once or twice more. While I will have to watch those three – I don't count Longbottom –" she saw Snape smirk at this "– next year. Oh, my ... _how does he do it? _Why do we two always have to play the Aurors here, while Dumbledore remains his ever-smiling grandfatherly self?"

"Experience, Minerva?" Snape suggested. "He is far older than both of us. And he is simply _a very clever_ old man. _A very annoying_clever old man." Snape frowned. "I have profited from this, so perhaps I should not complain. But I am afraid that Dumbledore has again forgotten that this school has _four_ Houses."

"And, clearly, yours is the one in the most danger – yet you can do only so much to convince the children what is right," nodded Minerva. "Severus, I wished nothing else than for Gryffindor to win the House Cup this year. For six years it has been down in these dungeons, but your students _earned_ the honour. Mine should have been given a detention, not a reward." She took a hearty sip from her glass.

Snape raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. "No complaints about me taking too many points to ensure my House's victory this year?"

"I can't blame you for taking points from Longbottom and the Weasley twins, can I? And Harry...well, I know your history with his father, and, while he seems different to me, I can't say he hasn't inherited any of James's recklessness. Fighting a mountain troll after two months of magical education? They're lucky to be alive! And I won't talk about this last adventure, if you don't mind." Minerva sighed, then smiled briefly in Snape's direction. "Judging by Poppy's occasional tirades on your behalf, you teach the most dangerous class at Hogwarts. Do as you see fit, providing you keep the children in line and unharmed. I won't complain – much – so long as your students don't break down in tears during your lessons... "

Snape flushed, fleetingly, but McGonagall, gazing at the amber liquid in her glass, did not notice.

"I don't mollycoddle them either," she said. "We have Dumbledore for that, don't we? _'Sherbet lemon?'_" she mimicked. The corners of Snape's mouth twitched in clear amusement. "You know what, Severus?" continued Minerva, suppressing a smile of her own. "I am starting to think we have six very difficult years to come – I don't even like to think about what may await us." She smiled gratefully at him, then. "Thank you for saving Potter's life this year – twice? You sent for Dumbledore last week, didn't you?" Not waiting for his confirmation, she nodded. "Yes – who else would? I didn't even listen to them when they came to me for help." She sounded sad once more; again, she drank from the glass Snape had ordered for her, drowning her mood.

"Well, at least you haven't ended up as _the villain of the year,_" smirked her companion. "As if I haven't had enough of that in my life."

She laughed at Snape's tone. "That's down to experience, Severus. Dumbledore should envy you. You're much better at playing the villain than he is the doting grandfather – when you choose to. And it's _entirely your fault._ You-Know-Who wouldn't _blame _you for being nice, not if he thought you were doing it to keep Dumbledore's trust."

"_Wouldn't He?_" Snape sobered. "Minerva, He would blame me for many other things and this could be the limit. _I_am not a Gryffindor to risk it – and your students don't deserve kid-glove treatment from me, anyway." He paused. Then, with a look rather like a child looking forward to Christmas, he asked, "Do you have the chart here? I can't wait to learn how badly Gryffindor would do, without _my _prejudice against _your _House." Minerva shook her head at this turn in the conversation, but reached inside her robes nevertheless.

It had always been a tradition of theirs. Ever since Slytherin had won the House Cup for the first time in this rather long string of victories, Minerva had started to interview Snape on his points-taking. He, probably trying desperately to annoy her, had been informing her about all the failures and rudeness that her students had been punished for.

Oh, they had argued about being too harsh to the younger children, but in the end, Minerva had been surprised that Snape had somehow managed to be actually rather fair. The first-years had almost never been robbed of more than several single points and the older students preferably given a detention. And when points _had_been taken, the deductions had been well deserved. Most of the time, anyway. There had also been bad days, when Snape had tended to be as unpleasant as only he could. But she had had those bad days, as well...

Severus took the chart and studied it for a few seconds. Clearly surprised about something, he lifted that eyebrow again. Then he laughed openly. "Minerva," he shook his head, "you are _so damned fair_ that it hurts me. Have I really only taken 38 points unfairly from your House, over the whole year? The year the_wonder of the wizarding world _entered Hogwarts? I would think it was more. Much more, actually..."

Minerva blushed. "I refuse to count the points that the Weasley twins and Longbottom lost. I have them in my classes, too. And while you take more points from them than you probably should, I can't usually bring myself to take any... just take it as though half of those points _should_ have been taken by me. The rest was probably well deserved."

Severus stared at her for a moment, a rare genuine smile forming on his face. "Minerva, you certainly know how to improve my mood! While I am thankful to Dumbledore for giving me the job here when I needed it most, I don't think I would have stayed this long if not for you – and Poppy," he added fondly. "Let us celebrate your triumph properly. I can still console myself with the thought that Gryffindor has managed to win only once in seven years, while _my _House has won _six times!_And remember – the Cup you have _really_ wanted, _the Quidditch one_, is still not yours! Remind me to thank Flitwick once again tomorrow for the wonderful charm he taught the Ravenclaw players, that sped up their brooms. " Snape's face lit up in an unmistakably happy grin.

"Severus Snape! Filius wouldn't cheat like that!" Minerva roared. "And you, you just wait till next year!"

"Should I be afraid? Don't be silly," Snape smirked. "The only good luck you've had is that Dumbledore has let the boy play – _against the rules_, if I may remind you. What would your team do without Potter? You saw them last week, didn't you?"

Minerva shot an angry glare in his direction. "Unlike _your_ students, mine at least play fair!"

"Do they?" Snape stretched his legs comfortably and played with his glass. After a while, he said quietly, "I seem to recall a match I once refereed ... if that was fair play, then I am the Headmaster."

"The white beard would suit you – until someone set it on fire again," she said jokingly.

"Minerva!" Severus stood, pretending to be annoyed.

"Oh, forget it! I just regret not seeing your expression the moment you found out," she replied, her mouth twitching.

He shook his head, stepped to the fireplace and refilled his glass from one of the bottles standing on the mantelpiece. "Minerva, Minerva ... and I am supposed to be the 'baddie' of this school? How the world can be so easily fooled is beyond me. _Pure, fair Gryffindors..._"

"You are far too cunning to let all your successes be known. We are not," she smiled.

"_Maybe. _But if I manage to get Potter expelled next year, I certainly won't keep quiet about it," he told her, with a dangerous smile of his own.

"Come, Severus, you know Dumbledore would never let you!"

"Wouldn't he?" countered Severus. "Maybe he would ... you never know with him. Dangerously lenient in some cases, while entirely too severe in others." He paused. "Nevertheless, you are probably right. But if I am lucky, and catch the boy sneaking through the corridors at night again, I may yet find a better punishment for him." He turned away, as if deep in thought. "Yes, yes, that's it! What would you think about a suspension from Quidditch? For a year – or even longer?"

"_Professor! _I should hope he would behave better than to deserve _that_!"

Snape paused, tracing his thin lips with a finger. "Well… I can imagine some actions that would be deemed reprehensible enough," he said. "Have you ever thought about just where his _dear godfather's_ flying motorcycle disappeared to?" Minerva eyed Severus angrily. _No need to remind me that the criminal Sirius Black was in my House!_

"Yes, yes," continued Snape. "A mountain troll, a three-headed dog named Fluffy," – saying this, he sounded more than a little sarcastic – "and the Dark Lord in person, even if only under a turban, in the first school-year of the famous Boy Who Lived. Well, I would say a vampire, a dragon and a flying motorcycle – to escape problems – would be fitting additions our boy wonder's second year ... What do you think, Minerva? I couldn't keep Dumbledore from giving the boy Potter's Invisibility Cloak – let's see how wise he will be concerning the damned motorcycle..."

_He is simply terrible,_ thought Minerva half an hour later, when leaving the dungeons. _A flying motorcycle! The boy is far too young to be able to handle it. Driving those Muggle inventions is rumoured to be rather complicated, after all. But Dumbledore may come up with that idea – I will have to speak with him soon about that. _Then she smiled inwardly. _You are horible, Severus. But it feels good to have you here._

ooooo

Two months later, Minerva should have been thankful to Snape for forewarning her – and he annoyed that his minor Seer talent had shown once again. As predicted, Harry Potter wasn't expelled, either. But unlike Severus, Minerva, who had never claimed to believe in prophecies (and immensely disliked Sybill Trelawney, the Divination fraud currently in residence), attributed her success to the fact she had known Dumbledore for the greater part of her life.

Snape had fumed about the Gryffindors for a week, but then focused his annoyance on the newest Defence 'expert', instead.

McGonagall smiled, realizing this. There had been a time when she had felt much the same about a certain newly-appointed Potions Professor. But while Trelawney had remained a fraud and the Defence 'experts' had thankfully never lasted longer than a year, the Professor in question had proven himself to be worthy of the trust Dumbledore had given him.

_Snarky, sarcastic, harsh – even cruel? Well, yes, you can be an annoying bastard if you want, Severus Snape, but Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without you. It would be much less safe – and a much less enjoyable place! _The corners of Minerva's mouth turned up. _Hard to believe I was the one who objected against your teaching here the most…_

ooooo


	2. And Unwanted Enemies

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 2: ...and Unwanted Enemies**

_**A/N:**__Many thanks to InkandPaper and cardigrl who betaed this chapter and Esmestrella for her helpful comments. (((-: _

_Enjoy! (-: _

ooooo

_Malfoy Manor _

_July 1992 _

"I can't believe he did it! After all those promises to be just towards Slytherin he goes and awards _the damned Gryffindor_s points for being undisciplined, _again_!" fumed Snape, furiously pacing Lucius Malfoy's study.

The blond aristocrat watched Snape from behind his writing table, smirking slightly. "Have you forgotten he is a Gryffindor himself, Severus?" he said calmly. "We all favour our own Houses."

Snape turned to him, furious. "Yes, Lucius, _we_favour our House. But Dumbledore _disgraces _his. Slytherin has won the House Cup six times in a row because I care for discipline, _not_ because I take too many points from other Houses – despite what everybody says."

"Draco has complained that you deduct the points from Slytherin in private." Malfoy nodded in approval. "What I fail to understand, _however_, is how you still manage to get so upset over how _he_ treats _our_House. You have known Dumbledore for...how many years now? Twenty, at least. Just what do you find unexpected about this development? Did you think Dumbledore would change? Don't be silly, Severus! I, for one, am much more disturbed with regard to the Potter boy. He won't become the leader we were hoping for...no, I fear he has inherited too much from his Mudblood mother..."

Malfoy spotted the look on Snape's face, and stopped. "Excuse me, Severus," he muttered. "I know you were fond of her. But that doesn't change the fact she was a Muggle-lover, just as much as your old fool Dumbledore is. Pity, she was rumoured to be very talented."

Lucius stood and went to the bar to help himself to a drink, offering one to Snape as well. Once back in his seat, he continued. "Do you remember what I once told you about the reason I don't like Mudbloods? The girl was behaving exactly like all the Mudbloods I'd met before her. Thinking she'd swallowed all the wisdom in the world, just because she could do magic while her Mudblood peers couldn't. Just like that Gryffindor know-it-all you have this year. _'I know the answer! I know the answer! Ask me! Meeee!'" _His hand up in the air, waving it to get Snape's attention, Malfoy senior mimicked (very accurately as his friend thought) Hermione Granger. No doubt he was mirroring his son.

Against his better judgement, Severus burst out laughing. _Well, what was wrong about making fun of his most annoying pupils when said students would never be able to find out? One minor fact – Lily had indeed been as insufferable as Miss Granger when they had first started at Hogwarts. But she had been one of his best friends nevertheless. A friend he killed_...Severus swallowed. He couldn't afford to be seen in this mood, not here. Three people knew; with them, he could mourn. But not here. He forced himself to listen again; strange as it might seem, he still took Lucius for a friend as well.

Malfoy rambled on about the Muggleborns. "No, a wizard should grow up in the world of his own kind, and should remain there. And if you could have turned out to be such an excellent man even with those parents of yours, let me say that the Prince blood running in your veins has something to do with it as well. No, Mudbloods should stay where they belong..."

Lucius Malfoy stared into his glass. When he looked up again, he smiled at Snape slightly patronisingly. "Half-bloods, on the other hand – that's a completely different story. Look at yourself! I was rather hoping the Potter boy would inherit the talents of his parents as well as our blood. But leave it to Dumbledore to deposit the boy with some Muggles and let them turn Potter into yet another of his Muggle-lovers... the _fool_!" Malfoy rose angrily, hitting the table so hard with his glass that the amber liquid inside splashed out. Then he shouted for the house elf. "Dobby! _DOBBY_! Come down here immediately and clean this mess! _Now_ – did you not hear me? Excuse me, Severus," he muttered. "There is nothing worse than to inherit incompetent servants, trust me."

In the meantime, Severus sobered, once again becoming aware of just why he had turned to the old and (when one did not think of Slytherin) mostly-wise Headmaster of Hogwarts all those years ago. _Dumbledore, you old fool!_ He swore. _You almost did it again!_

Snape preserved the annoyed expression on his face, but, inwardly, tried to calm himself. Strangely, he managed it in just a couple of seconds. _Am I already so used to him treating Slytherin badly?_ wondered the dark wizard.

Lucius Malfoy appeared calmer as well. With a twisted smile on his lips, a smile Severus hadn't seen for almost eleven years now, the Malfoy patriarch sank comfortably back into his chair. "But the Potter boy is not our last hope," he quietly announced. "After all, the Dark Lord may return sooner than anybody expects." Thoughtfully, the blond wizard ran his finger over an old, worn-out volume laying on his table – some book on the Dark Arts, Snape guessed. The Potions professor was hanging on Malfoy's words now, recognising the statement for a threat more than an expression of unfounded hope.

"Have you any plans, Lucius?" Snape asked carefully after a while, hiding his dread behind a good pretence of curiosity.

His eyes distant, Malfoy senior answered in a threatening voice Severus had again failed to notice (or perhaps it hadn't been there) for the past eleven years. "I may have one." Lucius Malfoy smiled thinly. "We shall see if it is possible... Let me surprise you, my dear friend."

An hour later, Professor Severus Snape was leaving the Manor. _Dumbledore, you old fool,_ he thought once again. _I have learnt – the hard way – that I shouldn't take your actions to heart. Yet still I catch myself doing it again, time after time, no matter how stupid it feels later. But has it ever occurred to you that Lucius might have turned as well, being as close to Narcissa and Draco as he is? _

The young wizard shook his head in real disappointment. _In a way, Lucius really has turned, you barmy old man – while _you_ insisted on being foolish enough to exchange another tamed Death Eater for five minutes of glory for an already spoiled-rotten boy! _You are a fool, _Dumbledore! Be it the only thing that the Dark Lord got right._

Snape spat on the ground, suddenly wanting to shout out all his feelings aloud. But he rarely let himself to do that; instead, he Apparated to Hogsmeade, seriously thinking about resigning from his teaching post. However, the small voice that had once persuaded him to take the position of Head of Slytherin House again asked him who would take care of Slytherin if he did that... Snape knew he would have to stay, if only to prevent Lucius's revenge getting someone killed...

ooooo

_Hogwarts School _

_Great Hall _

_Late July 1992_

"Ah, good morning, Severus!" Dumbledore greeted him cheerfully, taking the seat right next to his Potions professor and helping himself to a hearty breakfast. "We have a rather nice day today, wouldn't you say?" asked the ancient wizard, not at all minding that his beard was now full of croissant crumbles.

"Definitely not," scowled Snape, thinking of all the potions Poppy had asked from him and his own research that he had neglected in the past two weeks due to the warm weather. "What are you doing here?" The younger wizard frowned at Dumbledore then, realising that the Headmaster was not supposed to return from his visit to Nicolas Flamel until Sunday – at least three days from now.

"Not happy to see me, Severus?" teased the Headmaster. Snape raised an eyebrow in answer. _So he wants to speak with you, Severus. Are you so predictable that he knew you were coming to breakfast here only because you were safe in the knowledge that he was somewhere else? Probably. But, hell, what did he expect after that damn display of favouritism towards Gryffindor?_

For a while they ate silently, the only sounds the clinking of their tableware. The summer sun made its way through the large windows of the Great Hall, making Dumbledore smile, but leaving Snape more and more annoyed. _Why couldn't it have been this hot in those last days of school? Dumbledore would, no doubt, have proclaimed the rest of the lessons cancelled, and Snape would have had the chance both to enjoy the weather and complete his brewing in the later cooler, or even rainy, days. _

But no, he simply wouldn't get the chance to enjoy this year. First Potter coming to the school looking and behaving so like James that he had to forget that, once, he had actually rather liked the boy _-- when he wasn't drooling baby spit on my best robes, that is._Then, Quirrell offering his head to the Dark Lord. And now, Dumbledore pretending that he cared, but doing something so unforgivable it not only undermined his position at school,but – even worse – gave the Snakes new reason to dislike or even hate members of the other Houses...

"Do you know why I did it, Severus?" Dumbledore asked quietly, gently interrupting Snape's stream of thoughts.

Surprised, Snape looked at his superior, a half-eaten apple in his hand. "No," he frowned.

Dumbledore nodded, sadness written all over his wrinkled face, face that had only a couple of minutes ago been lit with a happy smile. "You know the role the boy will have to play in the future, Severus. You may believe me when I say that it pains me. It actually reminds me of the feeling I had when you were in your seventh year and I worried about your future..." The ancient wizard paused, and for a while gazed straight into the sun that was shining steadily at them. _Severus eventually managed to silence his worries and in a way even overcome his expectations, _he thought. _Could his hopes for Harry fulfil themselves as well? He should pray, as he had once done for the Slytherin Potions prodigy whom Minerva used to dislike so much. And look at them now! One would think they were a married couple with all their arguments – but friends, nevertheless. Maybe this, also, was what was needed – Severus not only looking after the boy, but actually caring... _

Looking again at Snape, Dumbledore continued carefully. "Severus, I know you liked the boy's mother. Why do you insist so much on seeing James in the boy? He is nothing like him, trust me. Petunia didn't want to take the boy in, as you well know, and I fear very much what Harry could tell me if I asked him about his life before he came to Hogwarts." Dumbledore recalled the small boy sitting in front of the Mirror of Erised, and sighed. More quietly, he went on. "I can't share the rest of the prophecy with you, but, my dear boy, Harry may very well pay the highest price for our salvation. Let me give him some hope that it all may yet end well. Let me encourage him to at least _try_ to fulfil his destiny."

The old man allowed himself a sad smile before continuing. "Your Slytherins _know_ they did well, Severus – and neither you nor Minerva can fool me that the School Cup is the one you value most. If I know you, the _Quidditch _Cup is on the mantelpiece of the Slytherin common room already, to console your Snakes. Please, forgive this old man his wish to give a small boy – burdened with a duty that may get him killed – a prospect of a better future." A single tear ran down Albus Dumbledore's face, and Severus knew he would forgive the older man. Eventually, he always did.

Seeing Dumbledore cry was rare; the ancient wizard had seen entirely too much in his long life for that to happen often. Snape viewed this unusual display, therefore, with a heavy heart. A sour mood should have been reserved for him. After all, Minerva always said that he had a monopoly on scowls, frowns and sneers at Hogwarts. "I will help you look after the boy." Snape vowed to continue his obligation to Lily. And then, eyes down, he said also, "I will do my best to forget he is James Potter's son." _Thank Merlin the boy at least inherited his mother's eyes! _

"Thank you, my boy." Dumbledore looked at Snape gratefully, his eyes still sad. "I know you won't ask anything for yourself in return, but I shall try to give your Snakes a better deal next year."

Snape nodded, hoping this promise would last longer than all the good intentions Dumbledore had undoubtedly had before this year, too. He finished his apple, then hesitantly told Dumbledore of Lucius's promises. "But let me warn you, Headmaster, that certain traditional families won't be able to forgive you for your favouritism this easily. Lucius Malfoy in particular shared the opinion that Potter should be taught a lesson."

Dumbledore looked at Severus questioningly, clearly alarmed. Snape shook his head. "No, I don't know anything specific. But we should guard the boy better next year."

The old wizard nodded his affirmation and Snape once again assured Dumbledore that he would assist him – in the end becoming the welcoming committee for the boy and his faithful associate in mischief. Unfortunately, Lily's son's latest adventure reminded the dark Professor yet again of the reckless boy's father. And so, promised or not, Harry Potter remained his favourite target in the classroom as well as out of it. But he did guard the boy's safety, as well as the safety of his friends.

If Dumbledore was disappointed, he didn't share the feeling with his Potions instructor. All in all, the Headmaster was rather glad that Snape had remained at Hogwarts after the war. The thought that he had once given the job to Severus as a measure to keep the young man safe and close to him seemed surreal now. But it had all started with the desperate boy searching for help...

In the beginning, there was a boy who fancied the Dark Arts above all else, except maybe his potions, but who didn't actually want to become Dark; the boy whom he set on the straight path to hell. The lost boy had grown up into a man living with a purpose, or, better to say, a great desire not to let other children repeat his mistakes. Dumbledore hoped he would succeed, and wished he would be of more assistance than a "pain in the arse" in this quest of Severus's.

But the Headmaster kept forgetting that one man is not enough, that a single person can never change everything for the good, in spite of the best intentions--and that this truth applied to his own case, as well as to Severus's.

ooooo

_**A/N: **__Lucius Malfoy: I don't view him as an incarnation of evil, sorry. In my opinion Dumbledore gave him a valid reason to step in with his unfortunate behaviour at the end of Harry's first year. _

_Clap your hands, if you believe Slytherin is not evil! (-: _


	3. A Substitute for the Potions Class

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 3: A Substitute for the Potions Class**

_**Author's Note: **__This chapter was betaed by Lady Whitehart and by cardigrl. Thank you both as well as Esmestrella for suggestions! _

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_Staff Meeting _

_Late April, 1981_

Yet again, another staff meeting. Minerva McGonagall sighed entering the staff room. Their numbers had increased immensely during the recent war years. There was too much to discuss – and not necessarily because of Dumbledore's involvement in the fight. There were parents and students missing, injured or dead; staff members and their families were afflicted by the war. The safety of the school was the primary task in those days and the staff agreed on weekly reports to the Headmaster. As the Deputy Headmistress, Minerva was better able than many to feel the immense pressure lying on the shoulders of her superior.

The old man was affected himself when his brother's wife had disappeared not long ago. Dumbledore's odd sibling had isolated himself on his goat farm afterwards, not wanting to speak with anybody, including Albus. The Headmaster was more than a little tired, the famous friendly twinkling in his eyes now reserved only for the youngest of Hogwarts students. Minerva and the rest of the staff were meeting an old man, whose eyes were full of sorrow and worry – sorrow for students lost and worry about the future. The Transfiguration professor didn't like this change; it was as if the optimistic little flame illuminating their difficult way had been blown out, leaving them to the endless darkness.

McGonagall and the other three Heads of House were the staff members closest to the Headmaster – the people he trusted most where the school was involved. However, of the four, only Minerva also offered her help in his other business and became a member of the newly established Order of the Phoenix. The Headmaster understood this decision of his staff all too well to try to persuade them. They were more needed here, anyway. But Minerva could see how outnumbered the Order was, and she dreaded the outcome of this war. Flitwick, Pomona and Slughorn were very competent wizards, and she would have liked them on her side in Order business as well. In any case, she had known all three for many years now, and she could see why they had decided to stay away from the fight.

Flitwick had once been a great duelist, but he had never had to fight for his life. Like all the Ravenclaws, he preferred the peaceful library to the battlefield. The tiny Professor felt that his service was most important at Hogwarts where young minds needed to be educated well to be prepared for the cruel real world. Pomona Sprout was a friendly soul, wonderful with small children and her plants – and a person esteemed for her ability to console those who lost somebody close to them. If needed, the Herbology teacher was prepared to fight to her last breath for the school's sake, next to the old Headmaster and her other colleagues. In the long run, though, she needed the calm of her greenhouses to be able to offer her kindness to the others.

The aging Potions master brewed all the potions needed in the infirmary. The increased need of sleeping and calming draughts, as well as occasional emergency brewing for St. Mungo's, was enough to keep him occupied; at least that was what he claimed. The truth was, he preferred his quiet world full of attention from his most promising students to the outside turmoils and dreamt about retiring – if only there would be a talented teacher to take his place! But to find a competent one who could be trusted was a complicated task at the present.

Minerva had often heard what a pity it was that Lily Evans -- no, Potter -- had to join the Ministry research group. Slughorn had, after all, never expected less of her. The Deputy Headmistress had also been told more than once that one of her least favourite students, Severus Snape, may have been more talented than Lily, but unlike his mother, Eileen, or Lily Potter, he lacked the social graces necessary to obtain a well acknowledged job.

ooooo

Minerva scanned the assembled collegium. Horace and Filius were seated by the window; the others around the table. Pomona spoke quietly with the Astronomy teacher; Poppy Pomfrey discussed something (very probably the ever-present Quidditch injuries) with the newest Flying instructor. Sybill Trelawney – no wonder there, Minerva thought – failed once again to attend. While the three non-Gryffindor Heads of House decided to stay away from the fight, the Seer (if you could call her that, McGonagall smirked) was of the opinion that no involvement in the real world was the absolutely safest thing. The Deputy sighed deeply, seeing the chair which had once belonged to the latest Defence teacher empty for the third time in a row.

Minerva hoped Dumbledore would have a replacement soon, preferably this week. Such bad luck, the Defence teacher falling into a coma less than three months before the end of a school year! As if there weren't enough demand for competent Defence teachers already; to find one annually was difficult enough. The interviews with the candidates had been scheduled for the Friday last. Since then, Dumbledore had been at the Ministry; not even McGonagall knew whether he had managed to find a substitute.

On Minerva's demand, the house-elves appeared with tea and snacks. Hagrid and Filch arrived, greeted the Deputy and the assembled teachers, and seated themselves next to the entrance. The teachers spoke to each other quietly, marked essays, or read in the Daily Prophet. Minerva poured herself a cup of tea and settled in an empty chair. The Headmaster was late, but that was to be expected. The Ministry was in chaos ever since the Minister had been hospitalized in St. Mungo's a week ago.

Ten minutes later, Minerva smiled at Dumbledore's tall figure stepping out of the fireplace. The Headmaster's face was tired, but McGonagall noticed that his eyes had reacquired at least a part of their twinkling for a change. It seemed as if a sparkle of hope had been lit in them and, strangely, Minerva immediately felt relieved and hopeful.

The news from the Ministry was announced first. Dumbledore had been asked to take over the office. He had declined but had promised to help more than he had before. Minerva and the other Heads of House acknowledged the increase of their duties without protest. Well, all except Slughorn, who once again proclaimed he was old enough to retire and hoped Dumbledore would find a new Potions master for the following year.

Minerva shook her head disbelievingly. The man was terrible. A substitute for his class! As if they didn't already have enough problems. And Dumbledore! Typical. The Headmaster surely couldn't tell Slughorn this was no time to discuss things like this. No, he just kindly smiled and, with a twinkle in his eyes, informed the bald man they should speak about this later – as if no war raged beyond the castle's wards, which thankfully were at least still secure!

The wards were the next discussion topic, together with security arrangements for the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. Hagrid and the caretaker were questioned about nightly movements at school and in the Forbidden Forest. Then the Headmaster – satisfied that no news meant good news – announced the name of the new Defence teacher. Slughorn remembered him, as he used to be in Slytherin, and confirmed that nothing was known about any involvement of the future Professor with You-Know-Who's regime. Dumbledore explained that the man was recommended by Alastor Moody and was a retired Auror. Minerva, together with the collegium, approved his appointment (a standard procedure since the time the position had in all likelihood been cursed). Then Dumbledore released the majority of staff and only the Heads of House remained in the room with him.

ooooo

To Minerva's surprise, the Headmaster turned to Slughorn first. "Horace, tell me – you have always enjoyed teaching a great deal," Dumbledore started. "This wish of yours to retire... Are you in earnest about it?"

The Potions Professor angrily exclaimed: "Albus! I am one of those taking life seriously! I have been telling you repeatedly during the last three years that I wanted to retire." Minerva knew this was true.

"And I meant it. I am not one to run around and offer Muggle sweets, kind smiles and reassurances that life will be good! No, I am not you. I, for one, feel old." Slughorn frowned then. **"**You should be happy I am not irresponsible enough to simply lay my resignation on your table by the end of the year, Albus! Merlin knows I have earned the right to enjoy a bit of peace!" The lack of extraordinarily talented Potions students in the recent years was not mentioned, but Minerva knew their old colleague gravely missed Lily Evans, recently married Potter, and – even if reluctantly -- her Potions' partner.

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled with mischief now, and Minerva almost missed the seriousness of the past weeks. Almost. In truth, she was relieved to have the familiar optimistic Dumbledore back. Her superior's smile brightened as he informed Slughorn, **"**Well, Horace, then you will be glad to hear I have been able to find a substitute for your classes. A wonderful one, if I may say so myself."

Slughorn appeared dumbfounded. Minerva was aware he had never expected the Headmaster would let him go this easily and was secretly disappointed Dumbledore wasn't trying to persuade him to stay any longer. But then, he really wanted to retire and the sooner the better. The Potions Professor nodded and smiled.

She wasn't that confident. "Who?" McGonagall asked impatiently.

Dumbledore seemed to enjoy the moment – his face was lit with a wide smile (without doubt a pleasant sight after all the pessimism, but still a bit disconcerting). Minerva almost expected him to demand that they guess.

The Headmaster confirmed that, saying, "Oh Minerva, I am sure you know him. He is quite young, but I am confident he is brilliant enough to satisfy even yourself. He may lack experience; however, I am sure you all will help him to become as proficient as Horace." Seeing a bit of disappointment in the face of his oldest colleague, the Headmaster added: "With time, certainly. Good teachers need much patience and I have reason to believe that our youngest Professor possesses quite a temper. Nevertheless, he is brilliant... And educated, and may I say praised, by our estimated Horace himself."

Quite young – inexperienced – youngest Professor – impatient – brilliant – Hogwarts student. Minerva was running through the options. The present youngest Professor at Hogwarts was 29. Sibyll, sure. Plenty of years until she feels old and voices the same wish as Slughorn has today. Minerva's mood darkened while she turned her thoughts back to the new substitute Professor. Younger than Sibyll, brilliant, infamous for his temper. Hogwarts student. Good enough to satisfy even Slughorn – who secretly values his position enough not to allow anyone incompetent to have it. Brilliant, probably not only in Potions. Young, you know him for sure, Minerva. Inexperienced – not long from Hogwarts. In his early twenties or even younger then. Praised by Slughorn... Brilliant, he... And then she knew. Albus liked him after all.

"No!" she cried aloud. "You can't, Albus! He is far too irresponsible! I won't have him hexing students as he did Bertha Jorkins! I don't care if you assigned him all those unrecorded detentions in the infirmary because you felt guilty for the incident with Lupin. I don't care he knows now how to heal the damage he may cause... He should have been expelled! He may be brilliant, but he is dangerous! … He is very likely one of HIS followers, Albus!"

ooooo

Bertha Jorkins. Lupin. If the other Heads of House hadn't known before, it was clear now. Severus Snape, not even three years out of school. Brilliant, but not very popular. Slughorn's best student – if you didn't count Lily Potter, who was preferred as a better companion. Not one known for his social skills, but very knowledgeable of the subject – if only he could be more patient.

Both the Heads of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff recalled the boy (coming from a relatively poor family) providing some tutoring during his later years at Hogwarts. Impatient but effective. Pomona Sprout looked up at the Headmaster, who was patiently waiting on the verdict of his inner circle: "I would agree with your selection, Albus, if you really want to have young Mister Snape here. I am sure you wouldn't invite him to teach here, if you thought he was as irresponsible as he was in the past."

Filius Flitwick nodded. "It would be a waste if a fine mind like his didn't share its knowledge. Mister Snape may not yet have all the virtues required of a teacher, but I trust your opinion, Albus. And he is young enough to learn. I will gladly help him."

McGonagall said nothing. While she didn't like the boy, she had always acknowledged his intelligence. But she wouldn't let him teach or even get anywhere near the school, if it was left to her. Slughorn seemed to think it all over as well. Dumbledore left them both some time and then asked, **"**Horace?"

Slughorn nodded – not very happy. Lily should have been the one to succeed him. But nodded anyway. "I can't deny he is very talented. But be forewarned, Albus – he would be much better suited to some research institution. Even a private laboratory would be better for him. I think that is what he has been doing recently... Remember, I was his Head of House – and know him quite well. He is really not patient enough to be a good teacher. But I will give him this – he was always good help, when some brewing went wrong – and he knows the subject." Dumbledore acknowledged this with a nod and turned to McGonagall, who was standing now by the fireplace and looking at the flames. "Minerva?"

The Transfiguration teacher was silent. Then she locked eyes with him. "If you take the responsibility, Albus – and present this idea to the Board of Governors yourself. If nothing else, they will object to the boy's youth."

Dumbledore smiled, a twinkle again in his eyes. "Accepted." He looked at Horace Slughorn again. "I have a little request for you, Horace... We have all agreed that young Mister Snape lacks on some qualities teachers should have – and I am not going to deny it, Minerva." His eyes briefly turned to her again. She smiled sadly; it was still not enough for her.

Albus Dumbledore ignored her look and went on. **"**We all know the young man is very gifted and capable teaching not only Potions. This could be good should we need to substitute for the Defence classes again. Merlin knows it happens often enough and neither of us has enough free periods to cover all the classes." (Or is not willing to, dear Horace. Minerva added for herself.) "He will be also able to brew all the potions needed for the hospital wing." Slughorn confirmed this with a nod.

"This leaves us the teaching problem itself... Horace, if you will – Mister Snape would need to learn how to approach different age levels. Oh, I don't doubt he remembers quite a lot – but he can't recall that much from his first and second years. I suppose he can't be familiar with the exact requirements for the OWLs and NEWTs either, not speaking about the curriculum in total. Horace, I would like you to stay here long enough to initiate him with your syllabus and explain tohim the problems that usually occur, especially in the lower classes. He will receive the old Potions master's quarters in the Dungeons, so you may use your chambers until the summer. Until then, I would like you to continue with your Head of House duties as well.

That will solve also the financial issue, if you have wondered, Minerva," Dumbledore turned to her briefly,** "**as the School Order allows us to hire for both positions separately and this year we have even a sufficient budget surplus. Now, Horace, do you agree?" Dumbledore asked finally.

Horace Slughorn nodded – his wishes were finally heard. Severus Snape should be intelligent enough to memorize the syllabus within a week. Slughorn didn't want to oversee the classes for too long, either. If the boy wanted to teach, he would have to find the best tactics himself. And Slughorn would let him; there was nothing better than to be thrown to the water, if one wanted to learn to swim.

As for the Head of House duties, Horace never cared for anyone except members of the Slug Club more than was required, but was always available for students should they have problems. He would continue in that.

Severus would be probably glad to brew for the infirmary as soon as possible as well; the boy liked acknowledgment. Let Madam Pomfrey be the one who would give it to him! And let the retirement start as soon as possible... Horace Slughorn was a Slytherin and, like all the members of his House, appreciated fulfillment of his own goals above all...

The staff meeting was over; Sprout, Flitwick, and Slughorn left (Slughorn with a huge smile and dreaming eyes). Minerva McGonagall was asked to stay behind. Dumbledore needed to inform his Deputy about the real reasons behind the employment of Severus Snape. The old Headmaster dreaded her reaction – but it had to be done. There weren't many people he would trust more both with the school and the Order.

ooooo

The Headmaster appeared nervous. "Minerva... Try not to interrupt me, if you can. There is another reason why I have offered young Mister Snape a position at Hogwarts. And before you say anything, know that I trust him. Trust him and support him. . . . You know I was unfair to him before. We all were, and we are partly responsible for his decisions. But the boy has changed. He was here the last week as one of the applicants for the Defence position and he confessed something to me I feel you need to know as well, for both his sake and the sake of this school. My dear, it's a knowledge you are not going to like, but I ask you to have faith in both me and the boy. Believe me when I tell you he is sincere. And if you can't yet trust him yourself, give him the mercy of your doubt. Don't judge him harshly; Merlin knows we did before and we weren't right. I have reasons to trust him. And know that I would never offer him the position here at Hogwarts should he be dangerous to the students."

Minerva had suspicions she didn't like at all. But she trusted the Headmaster – more than he would ever know. She nodded her affirmation and waited for the blow.

Dumbledore turned and stepped to the window. He looked out of it and was silent for a long while. Minerva decided to be patient. Several minutes later, Dumbledore felt prepared to tell her the rest. Hopefully, the pause was long enough for her to prepare for the worst.

"Minerva, the boy – and once again let me say that I trust him… The boy used to be..." Dumbledore's words slowed down as the old man tried to find the best words to break the news to his colleague. Damn, it shouldn't be this hard, he thought. But Minerva didn't trust the boy as it was. She didn't need him to add to her worries. And Severus Snape didn't need her suspicions. But he couldn't explain about the prophecy; he couldn't tell her he trusted the boy because Fawkes did. She would think him an old fool, and it wouldn't make it any easier for her to believe the boy.

But Dumbledore shouldn't have underestimated his Deputy. She was clever enough to see the boy's confession was something terrible. Dumbledore wouldn't be this nervous, if it were some little sin like, like... stealing books from the school library or… growing illegal plants in the greenhouse Pomona reserved for her older students' researches. No, there had to be more. She knew too much about young Mister Snape's Hogwarts problems.

No, it couldn't be from the time of his schooling. There were plenty of small troubles he had back then, and two bigger incidents she was aware of. There could be more as Dumbledore was dangerously lenient with the boy after the werewolf's incident. But there could be nothing worse than the cutting curse the boy used on Bertha Jorkins. No – and this was reported by Dumbledore himself... It had to be something from the years that followed. But what... What was serious enough to make Dumbledore almost stutter? And then she knew and she didn't like the idea. No, not at all. "Albus, don't tell me he is a follower of You-Know-Who."

Dumbledore nodded. "Voldemort, Professor. And he was. WAS, Minerva. I trust him. Please, remember that. I will ask you once again – I don't require that you trust him now. I am aware you have no reason to do so. But give him the benefit of the doubt and let him prove himself. Will you do this for me?"

This time the silence was longer. Then the Deputy Headmistress said slowly: "I will try. Please, don't ask more of me now."

Dumbledore released the breath he had been holding. "I won't. I only want to make you aware that he is spying for us. It may yet come time when he will need your confirmation on this should I not be around... " The Headmaster beamed at her then, "Thank you, my dear."

"I pray you are right, Albus," Minerva said, evidently still skeptical, and then left the staff room, leaving the Headmaster behind. The old man approached the window once again and watched the sun going down behind the Forbidden Forest. It was crimson, and all the seers he had met in his long life said that this colour of a sunset meant upcoming death or war. He shuddered unwillingly as each death pained him and, thinking back to the conversation he had just had with the Deputy Headmistress, he breathed, **"**So do I, my dear, so do I. I pray Fawkes will choose another occasion to be wrong for the first time since I have known him."

Then, picking up his pile of scrolls, Dumbledore deserted the room as well.

ooooo


	4. Eileen Prince's Son

**1981 **

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 4: Eileen Prince's Son**

_A/N: Betaed by cardigrl__; thanks for helpful comments to Esmestrella._

ooooo

_Voldemort's Lair__  
__1978, Snape's NEWT year_

"My Lord, if I may...," the young, blond man said as he knelt in front of the throne like chair.

"Proceed, Lucius. Whom else do you wish to recommend?" the pale figure on the chair asked quietly.

"Snape; Severus Snape, my Lord."

"Yes? … Who is he? And why do you recommend him?" the Dark Lord inquired impassively.

"He is a Potions genius, my Lord; Slughorn praises him above all. He would be a gain for us because of that alone – but there is more. He is very proficient in the Defence," young Malfoy smirked, "well, in the Dark Arts, too. And while he has recently become Dumbledore's favourite, he despises the old fool more than many."

Voldemort became interested hearing this. "Really?" he whispered, red eyes fixed on the kneeling Malfoy. "And why is that?"

"I suspect the old fool sees Snape's potential as well, my Lord. Regulus Black was present when Dumbledore approached Snape with an offer of apprenticeship a couple of weeks ago. I think you would have enjoyed how the boy answered him. He didn't care at all that it was in public..." Malfoy chuckled.

"And you are sure, Malfoy, that he is still Dumbledore's favourite?" Voldermort demanded, eyes never leaving the face of the kneeling man.

"My Lord, you know the old fool. He still hopes the boy is redeemable. Even after the incident with Bertha Jorkins..."

"Jorkins?" the Dark Lord said pensively. "The name doesn't mean anything to me. What happened?"

"Something bad enough to leave Jorkins confined in the hospital wing for a week and Snape to be ordered to work as a nurse's assistant until the end of the school year. Nobody can get details from either of them. Snape was probably sworn to secrecy and she was in all likelihood Oblivated by the esteemed Headmaster himself." Malfoy smirked once again.

"Oblivated? By Dumbledore? Are you sure about this, Malfoy?" Voldemort asked, sounding very interested.

"It's a rumor, my Lord, but she has no recollection of the event. If she was indeed Oblivated, it was either by Dumbledore or by Snape; if by Snape, then Dumbledore looked the other way."

"The boy must be very important to him then. Bring him in!" The Dark Lord ordered.

Malfoy nodded and stood. He bowed and turned to leave. Before he left the room, however, he turned to the sitting man once again with a very hesitant, **"**My Lord..."

"What are you not telling me, Malfoy?" the pale man sounded dangerous now.

"Snape... He is a half-blood, my Lord," Malfoy said quietly.

Voldemort stood and, walking in the young man's direction, cruelly laughed. Stopping in front of the Malfoy heir, he said, a twisted smile on his lips: "Really, Malfoy? Even better. Let us show the old man he is wrong placing his hopes in the Mudbloods and Muggle-loving fools like himself..." After a pause, the Dark Lord added, pure interest evident in his voice, **"**I don't know any Snape. Which family is he related to?"

"His mother is Eileen Prince, my Lord," Malfoy answered immediately this time.

"Princes? Good... But the mother had always been like the old fool; approach him carefully. I want him... Potions genius, did you say? Offer him a position in your father's laboratory... and promise him we will finance his studies; if I am not mistaken, Eileen married quite badly." The Dark Lord dismissed his companion, laughing madly.

"_This will hurt you, Dumbledore!_ You will surely do anything to get the boy back. And I will even let you; but he will be MINE!" he shouted, and the throne chamber shook with his immense magical power.

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
September, 1971_

"Welcome, welcome, you all! How is Abraxas, Lucius? And your brother, Belby?" A rather fat man was shaking hands with his much younger companions. "I am so very happy to see you all here for another meeting! You wouldn't believe how lonely a brewer can get when left to his cauldron and ladle the whole summer!" The man laughed, apparently very cheerful. "We have new additions I have to introduce first, I am afraid, but then the real entertainment can start. The Hog's Head has donated Butterbeer for our little festive gathering. Don't forget to mention it to your friends!" Wagging his finger at them, he reprimanded, sounding slightly disappointed, "I was sorry to hear you never visit the place!"

Grinning, the man approached four small children standing closest to the entrance; the tiniest boy hiding in a shadow a bit off to the side. "Do not fear; we are going to celebrate here, not eat you..." The man smiled widely.

"Everybody, let me introduce young Mr. James Potter. He belongs to one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain. I remember your grandfather, such a talented businessman! We should hope you have inherited at least a bit of his talents! Not lost in Potions brewing either, if I can tell after just these two weeks..."

The man turned to the only girl in the group then: "Miss Florence Borage. Your great uncle Libatius is one of the finest brewers living. You all will learn about him. Well, let's see if I manage to persuade him to join our little Christmas party, but I most definitely don't plan to use any textbook other than his Advanced Potion-Making for the NEWT-levels now or in the future. Marvelous book! Pity you weren't sorted in my House, Miss Borage!"

The next one to introduce was obviously a friend of Potter's. While the host stepped to him, he exchanged an amused gaze with James, both observing the tiny, cowering boy. The man exclaimed: "And here we have one of a traditionally Slytherin family. Narcissa, Bellatrix, you already know our guest here, I am sure. Sirius Black, a cousin of our esteemed Black sisters! Well, well, well – should I say how disappointed I am that the Sorting Hat decided you would better suit Gryffindor, my boy? Deeply indeed. But no matter what the Hat says, not only Slytherin may help one to future greatness… And who I am to complain when I was _greatly honoured_ to be Sorted _all_your cousins?" Slughorn turned to the two girls in question and gave them a satisfied smile. "I was equally privileged to have the oldest of the trefoil, Andromeda, in my House a couple of years ago. Very promising girl, indeed. Even if it pains me that she hasn't joined any of our little meetings recently..."

"She doesn't knowwhat she's missing, Professor," the raven-haired Black sister noted.

The Professor beamed in delight. "Thank you, Bellatrix. One likes to hear one's little efforts are important to you." He turned back to the spot by the door.

The last boy left there was the only one wearing Slytherin colours. If invited in here, the boy should have influential parents or other successful relatives. He didn't look like it, though, having rather pale skin, greasy hair and apparently second-hand robes. The Professor nodded to himself, frowning a bit. "Come here, my boy!" sounding slightly unfriendly this time. "And here we have a very promising Potions student, Severus Snape. Your mother, Eileen Prince, was one of the best students I ever had. I trust she is well?" When the boy silently nodded his affirmation, the Professor dismissed him. He smiled all around.

"And now, let us start for real!" A glass appeared in his hand: "To the next successful year!"

"To the next successful year, Professor Slughorn!" the assembled students exclaimed in answer.

Holding his still full glass, the tiny boy found himself a silent corner by the window. He was clearly not at ease in the group. Observing the school grounds, the boy missed the newest arrival. A tall, thin man with a wrinkled face and a long white beard and hair entered the room. Slughorn greeting him with pleased surprise. "Albus! I hadn't expected you here today! Thank you for coming! Will you have a glass of the best mead sold in the Hog's Head with us?" Not really waiting for the answer, the Professor handed his companion a full goblet.

Albus Dumbledore thanked him and looked around. The handsome Slytherin prefect spoke to Bellatrix Black, while her sister's gaze remained fixed on his face as she waited impatiently for every new word. Suddenly, the young man's eyes met Narcissa's and a smile lit his face. Dumbledore had to suppress a smile. _So here we are:__the long awaited union between the two most influential Slytherin families is forming. And not really the one you envisioned, Abraxas, I am afraid. Hopefully even you would be able to see that your son has received the greatest gift here and wouldn't stubbornly – as only you can – insist on his marriage with Bellatrix..._

The Headmaster's gaze wandered about the room further, stopping at the sight of James Potter and Sirius Black. _Gryffindor, Mr. Black? The Hat shared that__you had been very stubborn during the Sorting. No, no, I can't blame you for not wanting to be sorted to Slytherin. Even I tend to forget that plenty of fine people come from that House. Especially with recent developments. I suppose my coming here won't make it right for you, Horace, but I am not able to do more for your House at present. And you, my dear old friend... _The Headmaster's eyes searched for Slughorn. _You aren't really helpful in this, either._

Being more observant than many, Dumbledore caught a glimpse of the tiny boy hidden behind the heavy curtain. _Who are you?_he wondered, not recalling the boy from the Sorting (that he had partly missed, thanks to an urgent Firecall from the Ministry). _Slytherin colours... and yet no interest in being seen and acknowledged? What had the Hat said about the first year Slytherins?_ "_Pure-bloods mostly, the majority sharing the world view of the traditional families... Nobody really vile – yet! But be careful with them, Headmaster, or you may very well lose them to You-Know-Who." It was amusing to hear the Sorting Hat call Voldemort the term adopted lately by wizarding society, after the cruel raids in the North the Ministry hadn't been able to stop, especially when the Hat meant it as a joke of sorts. But there was a boy the Sorting Hat spent a long tirade on. Severus Prince, no, Snape. Eileen Prince's son._ The Headmaster knew that was the boy hiding in the corner.

"_And then there is this one, Headmaster. Snape, Severus Snape," the Hat said. "He is extraordinarily clever and very, very brave. And there is a strong loyalty deep within him – you had better pray you are the one he offers it to one day. For trust me: you don't want him on Riddle's side, if he really starts the war we think he intends. I have seldom encountered a fine mind like the boy's. Why, actually only three times during the past century. You, Riddle, and the boy. And the boy wants to prove himself above all. But that wasn't the only reason I sorted him into Slytherin. There is much anger in him; you had better have a look into it." _

With recent developments, Dumbledore hadn't managed to meet the boy before. _Maybe it was better this way, _he mused, walking to the window the boy was hiding by. He stepped to the window, pretending not to spot the boy who curiously regarded him from behind the curtain. "A very pleasant sight, isn't it? ... Mr Snape, am I right?" He turned to the boy with his kind smile. "Your mother liked Hogwarts very much, if I am not gravely mistaken. I hope you will as well."

The boy looked up at his wrinkled face, and the Headmaster could see hesitant liking and respect forming in those dark eyes observing him. "I already do, Headmaster," the boy whispered in astonishment that he had been addressed by the old wizard. Dumbledore quietly laughed seeing his expression.

"My boy, there is nothing I would like to hear from you more!" he said, and the boy rewarded him with a shy smile.

ooooo

The Headmaster left soon afterward, and Severus was debating with himself if he was allowed to disappear as well. For some reason, the very moment he decided to make his leave was the same one his Gryffindor classmates chose to approach him, following him to the corridor while taunting him about his falling off his broom in Flying class.

"Quite amusing, wasn't it, James?" Black grinned.

"Very amusing, Sirius, indeed. Frankly, I was rather surprised Severus here knew how to hold the broom. But then again – he probably has to use it at home daily. Judging by the way he looks, his parents couldn't even afford to pay for a laundry. Poor dear, the robes belonged to your father, didn't they?" Severus scowled in his direction, hand on his wand.

"Let him be, James!" Sirius Black said, smirking. "Don't you see we are not good enough for his standards?"

"You are right, Sirius. If my parents earned as much money as Severus's do, I would never have come to Hogwarts with my father's robes and my mother's textbooks. Anyway, what happened to your father's books, Snape? Burnt them when you didn't have enough coal?" Both the Gryffindors laughed.

The smaller boy's eyes glittered in anger. He pointed his wand in James's direction and shouted, **"**Impedimenta!" James fell to the ground, more taken by surprise than harmed by the hex itself.

"The whelp is biting, isn't he?" Sirius smirked helping James up. "We should teach him a lesson, what do you say, James?"

"I completely agree with you – as always."

Both the boys reached for their wands. The Slytherin was faster, however, and didn't hesitate to fire a really powerful curse this time. It was a rather dark one... The Gryffindors frowned from the ground.

"That was a Dark spell, Snape!" Potter shouted. "My father tells me that nobody casts them if they are not dark wizards themselves or don't turn one later. Snape, you are not only a pitiful excuse for a wizard, you are Dark on top of it! No wonder nobody likes you!" Tears had appeared in the eyes of the boy during this accusation.

Black added with disgust: "Snivellus!" as he did when the other boy had fallen off his broom earlier that day. He motioned for James to leave.

Severus followed them with hatred in his eyes; the only thing keeping him from firing another spell in their direction was the fact they were now turned away from him. He might know Dark curses – but he would never descend to attacking anybody from behind, he swore to himself.

As soon as the boys disappeared behind the corner, the blond Slytherin Prefect stood next to him, accompanied by his girlfriend. Both the older students were regarding him with curiosity.

"That was rather impressive, Mister ...?" said the older wizard searching for his name.

"Snape, Severus Snape, Mr. Malfoy," the boy answered.

"Lucius, to you... Very advanced magic, Severus. And excellently performed, as well. Snape, did you say? I don't recall ever hearing about your family. Will you remind me?"

The boy looked away. _Would he still be invited to call the Prefect by his given name, if he revealed his origins?_His mother had warned him about Slytherin's pureblood policy, but he had wished so much not to be sorted into Gryffindor that he had forgotten about it. Hesitantly, he responded, "There are no Snapes in the wizarding world... I am a half-blood."

To his surprise the tall girl was grinning at him, while the Prefect openly laughed. "Believing the rubbish people say about Slytherin?" he asked. "We don't like Mudbloods, I will admit, but there are reasons for it. The kids don't know how to behave – you will see that for yourself. Unfortunately, they almost never lose this tendency even in their adult years. The way some Muggleborn grown-ups act is really disgusting. But Half-bloods, especially as talented as you are, are more than welcome. Even in Slytherin. After all, who could blame you for your mother's choices?" He smiled at Severus. Then his face darkened. **"**But those like Black, who don't value their origins – those are to be damned!"

The girl caught Malfoy's hand and squeezed it. "Don't listen to him, Severus," she smiled at the boy; to her boyfriend, she added, **"**My cousin will surely see he was wrong, if you leave him time, Lucius."

"I sincerely hope you are right, Cissa," Malfoy said in a threatening tone. In a much friendlier manner, he looked back at Severus. "I meant it. You will be a great addition to our House." He offered the younger boy his hand. "Welcome to Slytherin, Mr. Snape!"

ooooo

Later that night, Dumbledore said to the Sorting Hat: "I have seen Eileen Prince's boy today. He is a bit lost now, but I think he will be all right. Maybe it is not a bad thing you sorted him into Slytherin after all..." _Horace takes good care of his protégés_, he thought.

In the dungeons, a tiny, dark-haired boy was able to fall asleep almost immediately, feeling accepted for the first time in the past two weeks. _I really like it here, Headmaster_, he repeated silently. His fingers running over a signature in a letter lying on his bedside table, the boy added then, _Don't worry about me, mum. Slytherin is not bad..._

_Indeed a talented boy. And a powerful one. _A blond teenager mused in the Slytherin common room downstairs, thoughtlessly playing with the long fair hair of the girl resting on his lap, his eyes dreaming about the great future awaiting him, no, them both. He kissed Narcissa softly on the top of her head and then his thoughts returned to Severus. _If the things go the way my father expects, I will recommend him to His attention one day. The boy will be a worthy ally..._

ooooo


	5. The Damned Prophecy

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 5: The Damned Prophecy**

_A/N: __Betaed by cardigrl__; thanks for helpful comments to Esmestrella. (-:_

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_May 1981_

Severus Snape returned to his old school like the legendary prodigal son. While the greetings from the majority of the staff were guardedly neutral – or more or less cautious – he was to be warmly welcomed by the school nurse, who had overseen his seventh year's "detentions" and apparently had grown to like the boy back then, as well as the benevolent old Headmaster, in whose eyes the insufferable twinkling had reappeared. 

Hardly aware that the twinkling had returned immediately after what should have been his job interview (but in fact had changed into a very much needed reunion of two brilliant minds whose cooperation could very well mean the turn in the war), the young man accepted the change in the aging Headmaster with the same caution he had lately used when entering the Death Eater meetings.

He brought very little with him. There were only two months left until the school closed its gates for yet another summer. The summer was also what worried him most. Spying on Dumbledore was expected from him during the school year; neither the Dark Lord nor Dumbledore had informed him what his summer would be like. Not that Severus didn't have his own plans and dreams; these had to wait, however, until this mess was over or he dead. No, he didn't want it to end this way. He was far too young for that, and could still atone for the crimes he had committed in the name of the Darkness.

Until he had overheard that damned prophecy that had recently brought him to thisdangerous game, Severus had merely worked in the laboratories Lucius Malfoy's father had rented a couple of years ago. He had not asked questions and brewed what he was told. Mainly it had been healing draughts; not only Aurors were suffering injuries in the war. 

Potential deadly potions, Veritaserum and Polyjuice Potion had come later and** -- **at first** -- **infrequently. Voldemort's Death Eaters enjoyed torturing by their own devices far too much. Severus, widely known to despise that kind of pastime, had been left to the research projects for his apprenticeship. Real work could wait until he finished his schooling. That much had been promised to him when he had started to work for the Malfoys.

Snape had been told he worked for other partners of Abraxas Malfoy as well. Names hadn't been mentioned but Severus had known it meant in all likelihood the Death Eaters. Angry as he had been, he hadn't cared back then. And he probably wouldn't have cared for quite some time, had he not been introduced to the Dark Lord, asked if he would like to work for him, and encouraged to take the Mark.

Still angry with the world favouring the golden Gryffindors (especially after "accidentally" meeting Black and Potter in Diagon Alley), the young Slytherin had taken the Mark and had had no reason to regret it until the Dark Lord had decided the young Potions prodigy might have a good chance of obtaining a job in Hogwarts. Waiting for his own interview in the Hog's Head (or rather a chance to speak with Dumbledore about the Headmaster's reasons for refusing him), Snape had overheard the prediction Sibyll Trelawney had delivered. The damned prophecy had made all the difference...

ooooo

_Voldemort's Lair_

_Late March 1980_

For once in his life the boy was really scared. As a Half-blood, he had never intended to join the fold during his school years. The rumors about the so-called Death Eaters' activities had been nasty already back then. He may have dreamt about revenge on the infamous Gryffindor four, but when Dumbledore had repeatedly approached him with warnings about the dangers of Dark Magic, he had silently laughed because he had not been one to enjoy causing harm. He had seldom started the fights in all the years of his grudge with the Gryffindor quartet. Anyway, when he had first struck back, he had been good; so good that he had first emerged as the group's favourite target and was soon the last interesting one.

His ambition had never been to become a follower of the powerful but hated Lord Voldemort. Once he had joined the fold, however, he grew determined to excel in everything asked of him. After all, he had not yet been ordered to do anything against his better judgment. He had failed his "employer" for the first time earlier today, and he was afraid Lord Voldemort wouldn't be happy with him.

The Sorting Hat had told the boy years ago he would have fit in all the Houses. Clever enough for Ravenclaw; as loyal as a Hufflepuff, if he wanted to be; brave without the recklessness significant for Gryffindor but more than welcome in that House as well. And sly and cunning as a real Slytherin. When the Hat had asked him where he would prefer to be sorted in, the boy had whispered back: "Not Gryffindor," because that was the House into which his "enemies" had been sorted only moments before. 

Silently he had added for himself, he wanted to show the Black and Potter boys he had met earlier on the train, he was better than they; that he wanted to silence all those mother's relatives who had accused him behind the closed kitchen door of being incompetent and weak. Through his head had run an image of his slightly nicer great-uncle who had left him his complete library and the boy had prayed he would be able to live up to the man's expectations. Then Severus's mood had darkened and he ended with: _I wish to be able to help Mother more the next time something bad happens._ The Hat had sensed the ambition and thirst to prove himself as well as the boy's anger, and had sorted Severus to Slytherin; but the boy kept his loyalty and intelligence, as well as courage.

Summoning all the bravery in him to help him through the next couple of minutes, the boy recalled the Sorting with nostalgia now. Life had been so easy back then! With this thought, Severus hesitantly entered the throne chamber.

"Approach, Snape," the very pale and very thin figure clad in expensive black silk whispered from its seat, playing with his wand in a silent threat; they were alone. Severus couldn't decide if it was a good or bad sign.

He knelt in front of the chair, eyes directed to the floor. "My Lord," he acknowledged the other man.

"Look at me, Snape!" Voldemort ordered, his voice low.

With all the courage he possessed, Severus raised his eyes.

"Have you spoken with the old fool?" The Dark Lord demanded.

"I have, my Lord," Snape confirmed quietly.

"But?" Voldemort's voice rose, as he sensed Severus was not saying everything.

Snape's eyes were directed down once again. "Not about the Defence position, my Lord," the young man whispered back, almost inaudibly.

"NOT ABOUT THE POSITION?" Voldemort yelled in disbelief, annoyance filling his voice. The Dark Lord stood abruptly and hissed: "Snape... I have ordered you to obtain the position and you haven't seen fit to even speak about it with a man who desperately wants you to return to his side and would do anything to get you back? ... I know the old fool, Snape. He acts far too friendly to show you the door... What have you spoken about?" Suddenly, his wand was in his hand and he directed it at his young follower. "Legilimens!" he shouted.

Glimpses of events from Severus's past shot through the young wizard's head...

A slightly younger Snape sitting at the highest bank of the Quidditch pitch, a red haired witch with green eyes speaking to him quietly and laughing at his answer...

The same young witch and he walking around Hogwarts lake, he definitely angry and she trying to console him, an unsympathetic fat girl approaching them saying: "Evans, don't waste your time with him. I saw him snogging Florence behind the greenhouses last Thursday. No need to be the third there!" Snape, angrier than before, casting some cutting curse on the girl…

The corridor in front of the Great Hall and Dumbledore in a festive robe spotting Snape. (Clearly this was one of the memories the Dark Lord was interested in, as he spent a long time holding on it.) Dumbledore annoyingly smiling in a greeting and then proclaiming: "Severus, what a lucky chance! May I ask, if you have changed your mind? The offer of the apprenticeship still stands. Remember, Nicolas and I may not be Potions Masters per se but we both would have much to offer even such a bright boy as you are. Think about it!" Sirius and Regulus Black walking around, arguing as always, and young Snape shouting back his answer: "Suddenly you care, do you? You think that this poor little Slytherin needs your help now? You are gravely mistaken, Headmaster! I don't give a damn about your hot chocolate and kind smiles! I have sworn to keep your secret and I will..." Severus smirked in Black's direction. "But nothing more. You can't buy me..."

And then, finally, the memory Voldemort was looking for...

Nervous Snape pacing a rather dark corridor at Hog's Head. A strange noise from one of the rooms and clearly worried Dumbledore's voice asking: "Miss Trelawney, are you feeling well?" Snape involuntarily coming closer to the door and hearing in harsh, hoarse tones: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...' And then a heavy hand on Snape's shoulder turning the young man to the local barman and back from the door so that Snape missed the rest of the prophecy: "Spying, were you? No longer, I should think." ... The door in front of them opening with a crack, the young witch and Dumbledore evidently surprised by their arrival...

Voldemort could feel the boy fight him. "NO!" he commanded and increased his touch on the young man's mind. Only those most talented in this field could view whole memories – and even then the lengthier ones posed a problem. But this time the Dark Lord succeeded.

"This one has been eavesdropping, Albus," announced the barman; Snape was thrown in the room, the barman's wand now pointed at him. Snape's and Dumbledore's gazes briefly meeting; Dumbledore's eyes disappointed, Snape fuming with anger about how he was treated.

"I will bring him down, Albus. He says he came to speak with you anyway. But I think he needs a keeper." Dumbledore slightly nodding, his eyes never leaving Severus. A harsh "Come!" and a pull on Snape's upper arm guiding him away from the room. Snape stuttering: "I will find my way out..." And a rough answer: "You wanted to speak to the Headmaster, didn't you? We will fulfill your wishes, boy." The boy part sounding as a threat.

Dark cellar room, a key turning in the lock... And then light again and Albus Dumbledore entering the room, looking very serious. "Severus!" Exclaimed in a strange mixture of surprise, worry and anger. A hand catching his both, another hand forcing his chin up and Dumbledore's gaze searching the boy's eyes. Anger the boy felt. And – was it a bit of shame? No, anger, deep and hating anger. Dumbledore with a pained expression quietly saying: 'You may go now.' and then pull of the boy's mind...

_Could he be talented in Occlumency?_ It had taken long enough, but at the end Snape managed to throw out the presence of the Dark Lord. And Legilimens cast by Lord Voldemort was strong. The dark wizard knew it well and observed with curiosity his young follower, sent to the floor by the spell's intensity. But then he recalled the prediction – because there was no doubt about the nature of the strange sequence delivered to Dumbledore – and shouted another spell. "Crucio!" Being his first and an intense one as well, Snape cried out in pain as his body twitched in spasms.

Lying helplessly on the floor, Severus heard Voldemort shouting for Lucius. A moment later he felt himself being lifted. Supported by his older companion, Snape limped blindly out of the throne room. He supposed Lucius to be furious with him as well – but to his greatest surprise young Malfoy took care of him.

Strangely, this was the night when their friendship was established. Snape was in a way made a real Death Eater and therefore Malfoy's equal; Lucius suddenly could see more than a very gifted and rather lonely younger schoolmate in him. The Cruciatus and the way Snape silently suffered through the after effects changed the boy Severus in Lucius's eyes into an adult. A rather brave and intelligent adult worth not only his money, but also his personal interest.

ooooo

_Malfoy Manor_

_Early June 1980_

"Severus, welcome! What a pleasant surprise! Come, come, we have much to celebrate!" Lucius Malfoy greeted with a wide, genuine smile. He forced himself to keep quiet while he seated his guest in the study and poured him a drink. Handing it to Snape, he however burst out: "It's a boy, Severus! I have an heir!"

"Congratulations, Lucius," his friend said in the now familiar silky voice, joy for the Malfoys apparent in his otherwise neutral expression. "And Narcissa?" Snape asked. He knew Lucius's wife rather well already from their school years, but they had never been more than Housemates. Despite that, Severus had attended the Malfoys' wedding a year ago; that time invited solely as a formal guest like several other (higher positioned and publicly unknown) Death Eaters and the major part of the Malfoy industries' senior staff members. Severus had been neither at that time but accepted the invitation anyway. 

Being a regular visitor of the Manor now, Snape had grown fond of Narcissa. Unlike her sister Bellatrix, Narcissa had never followed her husband in joining the fold. And while she may have been proud of her origins and her present social status, she had never been unfriendly to Severus, although she knew he was a half-blood.

Lucius frowned at Severus's question. Not even St. Mungo's was perfect – be he the heir of one of its most important donors or not. "There were some complications; she will probably never have any other children..." Malfoy mumbled and splashed his mood down with a sip of the golden liquid from his glass.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Lucius," Snape said quietly, sensing that anything else would sound meaningless.

"I know. Thank you, Severus," Lucius smiled gratefully in Snape's direction, nursing his drink. "You may still persuade the old fool to give you the teaching job. I am sure both Narcissa and I would be delighted to have you teach our child. Hopefully, Dumbledore will be away from Hogwarts by then. Or I will have to send the boy to Durmstrang... And Narcissa would kill me." The blond wizard shook his head, hiding a smile. "Would you believe that I, Lucius Malfoy, one of His most trusted followers, would have to be afraid of my own wife who is not even a Dark witch?" He laughed. "He will be baptized next Sunday. Narcissa wants to name him Draco. Sounds noble, don't you think?"

"Certainly." His companion delivered a smile of his own.

"Narcissa wants you to become an unofficial godfather of the boy. We can't make it official, as I am sorry to tell you, but there are traditions to be kept in families like ours. Under normal circumstances, her oldest cousin would be asked first, but you know what he has become." Lucius's face darkened and for a fleeting moment his eyes revealed the hate he felt towards Sirius, the one feeling he had shared with Severus for many years now. Malfoy continued, the frown still in its place: "Therefore, it has to be Regulus. And Narcissa assumes – quite correctly, if I can tell – that the boy is not even responsible enough to look after himself. In all likelihood, he will get himself killed by any one of the sides before this war is over. Being friends with your House Elf and making it a public knowledge? Merlin's beard, if that wasn't the most idiotic move!" Lucius scowled. "You, on the other hand, have enough brains to survive all of us... I still don't get how you could have become one of His most favoured only a week after that Cruciatus that almost killed you." Seeing Snape wanted to answer, Lucius hold his hand up. "Not a word, I know you have been sworn to secrecy. But you got out of it very lucky, trust me."

Snape grimaced at him and Lucius laughed: "You are not enjoying your reward? For it is really a reward, my dear friend. Bellatrix has recently complainedit was not fair to let you torture the first one – especially as you seem not to enjoy it. But – He has his reasons for everything He does and if we want this war to end to our favour, we have to follow Him in it."

Malfoy smiled in Snape's direction, clearly trying to console and in the same moment calm down the younger man: "He still lets you brew most of the time, Severus. Regulus has it much worse. Don't complain and I would be very surprised if you don't get some subtler task soon. He understands your talents are as good as your Belby, Slughorn or the old fool... Speaking of whom, the Dark Lord was rather amused by one of your memories. Did you really tell Dumbledore off in front of your classmates? Splendid! I have never allowed myself to do that. And trust me, there were moments I dreamt of nothing else..."

ooooo

_Voldemort's Lair_

_September 1980_

"Severus, come closer," Voldemort whispered. It was strange to hear his given name from the Dark Lord's mouth, Snape mused as he approached the throne. He knelt and bent his head, but apparently it wasn't what Voldemort wanted him to do. "Look me in the eyes, Snape!" Severus did as he was told. The Legilimens was cast silently this time...

The Whomping Willow, full moon, James Potter's voice crying his name. The dark tunnel under the tree, a strange howl and Potter grabbing on his collar and pulling him out while he stood stunned and frozen, gazing in the direction the noise came from, recognizing the sound. A furry creature almost catching them before Potter managed to get them out of the hole...

Snape's father shouting at Snape's mother, the boy Severus crying in the corner. "A wizard, what nonsense is that, Eileen? There is something wrong with the boy. He's probably not even my son! I wouldn't have fathered a creature able to shatter all the windows in a room with a simple look! He is possessed, Eileen! The boy is dangerous!" The man slowly approaching Severus, his hands prepared to stop any possible attack; the previously cowering woman jumping up and hastening to protect her child: "I am a witch, Tobias! I am to be blamed! Let the boy be!" A wand suddenly appearing in the woman's hand...

A man standing in a small kitchen, a knife in his right hand: "Give me all the money you have!" shouted in Snape's mother direction. Big eyes of a small boy looking scared from behind her. The wallet thrown on the floor and a displeased shout: "Pick it up, you bitch! Move! ... Now! Or I will harm your precious son!" The woman bending to the floor, the man grabbing her around the waist trying to kiss her. Shattered glass all around... Severus crying and then suddenly a wand in the woman's hand and a hex fired in the direction of her attacker...

The same man, older than before, drunken and stinking on the floor of a pub, Snape above him with hatred and a scowl on his face and wand in his hand. "Avada Kedavra!" and a flash of a green, blinding light. A feeling of accomplishment and power running through Snape's veins, desire to feel more of it... Cruciatus curse repeatedly used on the Muggles settled in the village, the spells more vicious than curses fired by Bellatrix Lestrange... A triumphant smile lighting the young man's face under the mask when the Aurors finally arrived to stop the raid...

And then Severus, still kneeling, proudly looking straight in the eyes of the Dark Lord. He could have thrown this Legilimens off much sooner, if he had wanted to. But he had wanted the Dark Lord to see his final descent into the Darkness. After months and even years of struggling to become the powerful wizard Snape had always dreamt of being, the young man felt he was in reach of his aim.

"Finally," the Dark Lord whispered, apparently satisfied himself, and dismissed his followers.

ooooo


	6. Living through Nightmares

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 6: Living through Nightmares**

_A/N: Betaed by cardigrl; thanks for helpful comments to Esmestrella. (-:_

**ooooo**

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Late March 1980_

"Narcissa is not joining us?" Snape asked, sounding disappointed.

His blond companion reached for the bottle to refresh his drink. While pouring the amber liquid in the glass, he answered lazily: "She doesn't enjoy this kind of chatter. Let her stay upstairs with the boy. And you tell me how you enjoyed yesterday's event! The Cruciatus you cast was one of the best I have ever seen – exquisitely painful and prolonged! And the look that Muggle had when you flicked your wand the second time! Severus, _I knew what I was doing_ recommending our Potions prodigy to our Lord. "LEVICORPUS!" Lucius chuckled, shouting the incantation Snape had taught his fellow Death Eaters several days earlier, his wand tucked safely away, as Snape gratefully noted. The younger man still didn't feel like sharing his spells with anybody who could use them against him – but Lucius was right, yesterday was a great day.

"Had I known you were able to create your own spells – and above all such amusing little incantations! - I would have recommended you much sooner," Lucius Malfoy went on, smirking in amusement. Then he frowned regretfully. "We could have been having fun like this for years now – and just imagine Dumbledore's finding out what was happening under his long nose!! Oh, I can almost see him – _'Severus, my dear boy, what have you been doing? Dear boy, don't you understand that those filthy Muggles are also human beings? You shouldn't misuse the great gift you received by your birth...'_ Severus, I tell you he would have probably even shed a tear over your loss! THE OLD FOOL! Does he really not see we are in the right here? And a bit of amusement – who would dare to refuse us? Certainly not the Dark Lord, when he enjoys our little outings even more than we do." They both burst out laughing.¨

"To his health! LONG LIVE OUR LORD!" young Malfoy shouted, lifting up his glass Snape followed suit and joined him in the toast. The blond man looked at his friend then, a twisted smile on his face. "He is _very satisfied_ with your service, Severus. _Extremely_ _satisfied,_ let me tell you. You have a bright future awaiting you in the fold, dear friend."

Finishing his glass and standing up to refill it, Lucius asked Snape, "Any more Firewhiskey?"

"No, thank you, Lucius..." Snape was playing with the now empty glass, clearly nervous. "I will need a vacation of sorts to complete my apprenticeship." He said then, slowly. "Do you think He would let me? The exams are scheduled in January."

"You, Severus? Don't be silly! _Of course_ _He will let you. _I think you will be called very soon anyway – there are plans for you! Bellatrix feels jealous again; you should be careful around her." Malfoy laughed good-naturedly while Severus smirked, amused by picturing how he would deal with Lucius's sister-in-law. Maybe it would be in order to brush up some of his other childhood and teenage spells...

ooooo

_Voldemort's Lair  
Early November, 1980_

"Up with you, Snape! NOW! I know you are better than this! STAND UP! I don't have all day," Lord Voldemort ordered in harsh tones, dangerously looming above the fallen form of his young follower, his wand prepared for another attack.

Voldemort had been very patient with his pupil – at least for him. The last Legilimens spell cast on Snape was, however, more vicious than any in the previous weeks and Severus had already been exhausted before the lesson had even started. Voldemort was perfectly well aware of that, having just received the newest batch of rather obscure potions he had ordered. But he felt it was no excuse. In the future, there wouldn't be any time that the young man would be allowed to put aside the skill he had recently spent so much time obtaining. No, his barriers would have to last hours and withstand the most unexpected and thorough inspections from Dumbledore's side then.

For reasons he kept private, Voldemort taught Snape personally, as he once did in Bellatrix Lestrange's case. Narcissa's sister was now in charge where Occlumency and Legilimency training was needed in the fold, being maybe a bit too cruel (even in Voldemort's eyes as he needed the minds of his followers intact), but her searching for the most painful memories of her pupils proved effective nevertheless. But she hadn't been asked to train Snape. No, the boy would have much too subtle a task to be able to use Bellatrix's techniques, the feared Dark wizard mused while his follower pushed himself up to his feet.

"LEGILIMENS!" The spell was thrown in Snape's direction again. They had been training for a month now and Snape was getting better and better, while the Dark Lord's spells were growing stronger and more vicious as well as more subtle and creative in searching for any hole in the young man's mental shields.¨

This time Severus blocked the intrusion immediately. Voldemort smiled in his twisted way. "Better. AGAIN!" The spell was cast nonverbally now, but the only thing Voldemort got to was a short glimpse of slightly younger Snape walking in the direction of Hogwarts greenhouses. The spell was fired another time and it was blocked again. And then ten times more; the Dark Lord never getting anywhere. "Good," Voldemort whispered in satisfaction. "You are prepared."

The Dark Lord motioned to a pile of books that appeared on his throne. "For you, Snape. Read them and LEARN MORE, do you hear me? As much as you can." He hissed and warned: "AND BE AWARE I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE CAPABLE OF!" Snape hesitantly nodded.

"You will keep this to yourself, Snape, but the old fool may be better in this magical art than I am. I was mad to send you to him knowing this." Voldemort added in a threatening tone. "I had assumed... Well, no matter..." For a while, the Dark Lord debated with himself whether he should share the information, finally roaring, "No, you have to know! I had assumed the old fool wanted you back so much that he wouldn't try this on you. Apparently, Dumbledore has grown more cautious in the years I haven't seen him. It was the only reason you were forgiven so easily, Snape! Don't you dare disappoint me again! I have prepared you myself for this very reason. Take the books and go! YOU DON'T WISH TO FEEL MY ANGER SHOULD YOU FAIL ME!!"

His voice lowered, the snake-like man continued, "There will be an opening for the Defence position as soon as you are ready. You will judge it yourself and come to me again when you feel prepared enough. I shall confirm your proficiency before sending you back to him. FOCUS ON EVERY FORGOTTEN TECHNIQUE TO INTRUDE INTO ANOTHER'S MIND. The old fool fancies all those most ancient methods. Well, he is a fossil himself; what may one expect from such?" The Dark Lord laughed.

In a kinder tone that didn't suit him, Voldemort went on, "Lucius tells me you have an exam to pass in January. Take the time until then to prepare for it and concentrate on my task for you afterwards. I should not summon you until then. Lucius will collect the necessary potions from you."

The Dark Lord smiled again, almost friendly, and promised, "There will be a reward for you should you fulfill my wishes. This time something you have really desired. Let me surprise you! It will be pleasant, I promise you that much, my faithful!" He laughed again, apparently in an excellent mood.

Severus bent his head and left the room, not knowing if the promise had been meant as such or if it had yet again been a threat of sorts. The pile of books was floating behind him, reminding him of his task as well as the reward he would prefer not to receive.

ooooo

_St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
January, 1981_

Snape had apprenticed with Damocles Belby after he had declined Dumbledore for maybe the sixth time. Belby was a Potions Master Severus had contacted himself; while the man was not yet as famous as Dumbledore and Flamel, Slughorn held him in high esteem and expected _great things_ of him. Though Snape had never fancied the idea of the Slug Club, he had taken advantage of the Christmas party Slughorn had organized for his past and new protégés in his seventh year.

Severus had been part of the group, but mostly he had been overshadowed by the very popular Lily Evans, now Potter _(how such an intelligent girl could be this foolish Snape could not comprehend; maybe it had something in common with the reason Lily had been sorted to Gryffindor?),_ and wizards from families wealthier than his. The Prince Manor and vault were inherited through the paternal line and Spinner's End was hardly a good address...

Coming from a relatively poor family – mother ill the last couple of years and dying shortly after he had completed his Hogwarts schooling, father unemployed and the rich Prince family never really interested in Eileen's welfare after she had married against her parents' and brother's wishes – Severus was thankful to Lucius for the job offer. He wasn't above admitting he might not have taken Malfoy's offer as soon as he had done, if he hadn't been angry with Dumbledore and all the Gryffindors running through this world, but what had once seemed a bad idea worked out in his favor. He had enough money to pay for the apprenticeship and cover his other needs; he had access to a superbly equipped laboratory with all the supplies he might need; and above all, he finally belonged somewhere and felt wanted and acknowledged. Life seemed to be good and Severus was confident with himself.

His final exams were scheduled in January, 1981 and Snape had prepared well. The evening before the examination, Lucius visited him to wish him luck and proudly announce to him that the Dark Lord had recently visited the Manor and, upon seeing the small Draco toddling around, he had decided to search for his prophesied enemy. Snape hadn't used Dark magic (and actually no wand magic except some cooking and cleaning spells) for two months at that point, and suddenly felt guilty about this. He dismissed the thought rather quickly and let Lucius continue to chatter in his friendly manner. It was late in the night when his slightly drunken companion left.

The next day Snape Apparated to St. Mungo's where Belby worked. Being early, he decided to wait in the small visitor's tearoom on the fifth floor. A witch was sitting there, talking to a baby lying in a pram next to her. Snape almost turned in the entrance upon spotting her. He hadn't managed it, though, before she saw him, stood and greeted him sounding pleasantly surprised.

"Severus! I haven't seen you in ages. Come, join us! May I invite you for a late birthday coffee?" She asked while he joined her. He nodded and very politely answered: "It will be equally your early birthday coffee, if I recall correctly. Thank you."

"You are sounding awfully formal, my dear Half-Blood Prince." The witch smiled.

Severus frowned. "Evans..."

"_Potter._ I sent you the invitation – why didn't you come? You know I don't like that kind of event. It would have been much more pleasant, if one of my best friends took part in all those festivies. You can't imagine how difficult it is when one is a Muggleborn and marries a Pureblood from an ancient family."

"My mother married a Muggle as well, Lily. You know that."

"First name basis again? Good – I have missed you!" She smiled brightly. "And that was exactly what I meant. James has never understood me the way you did. Pity you went for Florence in our sixth year. I wouldn't have minded going out with you either." Her smile grew wider. "What have you been doing all these years, Severus? You mentioned you worked in a small laboratory in the country and studied for your apprenticeship the last time I heard from you. And that was last Christmas!"

"I have my finals later today. You remember Belby, don't you? He works here in St Mungo's. I apprenticed with him after..." He trailed off.

She locked her eyes with his, caught his hands in hers and nodded slowly. "After that disagreement with Dumbledore. Severus, I know something had happened between you two before but he was right telling you what he did after that incident with Bertha." He wanted to protest but she shook her head. "Don't interrupt me, Severus. I saw you there and I know you felt badly even before he said anything but I hope you know now he was right about the Dark magic." She squeezed his hands and let them go. Severus nodded hesitantly, suddenly feeling wretched for lying to one of his best friends.

The baby cried out and Lily's gaze left Severus's eyes – never seeing the shame appearing in them. He was proficient in Occlumency now, but he hadn't seen fit to apply his new skill on her. Apparently it wasn't even necessary because the baby caught her whole attention. Lily picked it up from the pram, whispering consoling nonsense.

Then the witch turned to Snape and said, sounding very proud, "Mr. Snape, let me introduce to you my son, _Harry James Potter._" Severus could later never recall how it had happened but suddenly the baby was in his arms, drooling on his robes. He frowned, but for Lily's sake swallowed both his annoyance at being introduced to Potter's offspring (_not pleased to meet you at all, thank you_) and the way this new Potter decided to greet him (_share your father's opinions, you little beast, don't you?_).

"How old is he?" asked Snape politely, not really interested in the answer.

"He was born on..." Lily started, then mischievously smiled and joined the radio broadcasting now popular wizarding melodies of the sixties: "...and we fell in love and got married when July was dying..." Snape had always thought the song was silly and at first couldn't understand Lily's action. She married Potter more than a year ago. But the witch explained, grinning at him (probably because if there was one thing Lily Evans, no Potter, had never shown any talent in, it surely was singing), "Harry was born on 31st July; he is almost six months old now. And he has grown pretty heavy lately, haven't you, young man?" She caressed her son's unruly hair in a loving gesture.

Severus wasn't really listening to her anymore. The strange way Lily decided to answer his question reminded him of the prediction he had overheard almost a year ago. _Could her child be the one the Dark Lord was looking for? How was the formulation? Born to those who have thrice defied him... Potter maybe, reckless as he has always been, but Lily? She was more of a Ravenclaw. But Lily could have joined Potter, if someone had asked her to – someone she had respected above all... _

"Lily," he asked quietly, "have you been in contact with Dumbledore lately?"

She looked at him, evidently surprised. "Why yes, both James and I work for the resistance. Well, I can't help now the way I used to before Harry was born, but I am trying to do my best. Don't you want to join us as well? I am sure Dumbledore forgave you long ago and would welcome you with his whole heart. He has always liked you."

A strong sense of deja vu overcame Snape. The Dark Lord had said much the same when Severus had failed his first mission. Snape himself had never felt liked by the Headmaster. Hearing it from both the sides now, he acknowledged the possibility with a very strange feeling in his breast_. Maybe he did something wrong after all..._

_No, you have surely done something wrong. _His conscience spoke to him_. Lily and her whelp may die because of you. Born as the seventh month dies... When July was dying... Lily and Potter work for Dumbledore. They could have very well escaped the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters three times and you, being until recently hidden in Malfoy's Potions Laboratory, may have known nothing about it... No, Merlin, please no!_

The baby in his lap moved and Snape looked helplessly at Lily. She assumed Severus didn't know what to do with the boy and took the child from her friend. Like all the mothers tend to do, she started in then about how marvelous her child was; Severus on occasion nodding silently. Continuing about how great it was to lie in the hospital right next to Alice Longbottom when both Alice's son and Harry were born, Lily never noticed the shadow forming on the young man's face. The damned prophecy had messed with his life and sanity yet again, Severus silently swore.

Snape forced himself to listen to Lily's friendly chatter but found it annoying for the first time in his life. Pretending to need to leave for the exam, he cut the meeting short. Never making it to Belby's office in his present distress, Snape Apparated back to Spinner's End and spent the next twelve hours sitting by the window and drowning his despair in the cheap Muggle whiskey left in the house after his father had moved in with his new girlfriend a couple of months ago...

ooooo

_Spinner's End  
Late January, 1981_

The next few days were bad. Severus spent the most part of them drunk, stopping only when he had exhausted the supply of alcohol in the house. The damned prophecy was obviously meant to destroy his life. First he had had to join the raids against his will thanks to it (the later satisfaction from participating in them long forgotten); now he may have become guilty of killing Lily... her _dear James_… the child - _Harry_… and probably the Longbottoms... On top of that, he had to know all the adults and one of the boys in question personally; see the baby's innocent smiling face (_with a half open mouth drooling on his best robes!_) in his nightmares over and over again...

Better to keep quiet about the fact he was probably going to die in the process; Dumbledore made it very clear that he couldn't harm _Saint James Potter_ in anything other than direct defence if he wanted not to be harmed the same way. The life debt between two wizards protected the lifesaver of the other in many ways. Causing death was not mentioned by the old Headmaster (probably foolishly hoping it wouldn't come to it), but Snape in his thirst for knowledge checked for himself in the library. And yes, breaking a life debt in this way meant death.

It was one of the reasons Severus had never used his cutting curse on either Potter nor Black after the werewolf incident. But with the way Bertha Jorkins had approached him and Lily after he had spotted her maybe ten times during his date with Florence the previous week; the fact he had had to hear Sirius Black's disgusting remarks during the whole day and endure yet another private meeting with Dumbledore (who had once again tried to remind Severus _he used to be such a good boy_ and pleaded with him to let his anger go); Severus's nerves had not held and he had cast his most dangerous invention on the girl, shouting the incantation in his overwhelming anger.

He remembered the shocked expression on Lily's face and her running to get Dumbledore while he himself couldn't move and in a morbid fascination had surveyed the damage he had caused, almost unconsciously praying that someone would help the girl. The next thing he knew the Headmaster's phoenix appeared in a flash of light in front of him...

_No, you are not going to think about this._ Severus firmly told himself. There were more pressing problems now. Old grudges and hurts could wait until this mess was over. _If_ it ever would be over. He sighed. The meeting with Lily finally stirred his conscience, which had repeatedly already tried to get his attention in the weeks after the Dark Lord had terminated his training and he was excused from the participation on the raids. The old man was apparently right telling him the Dark Arts were seductive.

He almost threw his half empty glass across the room in fury. He didn't want Dumbledore to be right about anything. The anger towards the old man he had nursed in the last two years of his Hogwarts schooling had been justified! He might have gotten killed by that joke that had almost gone wrong and the only thing the Headmaster had offered him had been a cup of hot chocolate (probably laced with some calming draught, Severus smirked) and excuses why he couldn't punish Black accordingly.

Why should Snape now feel remorse about the way he had acted towards the aging Headmaster afterwards? But his conscience was uncompromising. _Every single person you have hurt, Severus. _(Well, everybody except the Marauders.) To silence the twinges of his reawakening conscience, the young wizard had refilled this glass again and again in the past days and now he was nursing the last drop of the whiskey he was able to find in the house. Swallowing it, Snape fell into an exhausted drunken slumber only to keep waking periodically whenever the newest nightmare ended.

_Cries of Muggles tortured by Cruciatus... Voldemort casting Cruciatus on him... Bellatrix Lestrange's evil laughter... His potions used for interrogation by Macnair, Voldemort's twisted smile when acknowledging their effectiveness... The sight of a deeply disappointed Albus Dumbledore at Hog's Head before the old man let him go... He casting Sectum Sempra on Bertha, Lily's shocked face... The Adava Kedavra he used on the old thief and the overwhelming satisfaction he felt..._ He vomited after this one. And then, when he managed to fall asleep again, the newest additions. _Lily holding her baby son and they both dying in a flash of green light coming from his wand, her eyes wide in disbelief and accusing... James Potter shouting in his direction he should have let him die in that tunnel... He lying dead, people spitting on his body, Sirius Black kicking his side... These dreams couldn't wake him anymore..._

Back to the old pattern then. _He casting Cruciatus and enjoying it... He sitting bent over his Potions texts, daydreaming about the pain he has caused...The Auror Lucius recently killed whose lifeless body fell onto Severus's boots smearing them with blood, while his empty eyes stared into Severus's own... Voldemort announcing he was to infiltrate Hogwarts again. Lily's grave. Potter's accusing gaze. Dumbledore's pained expression... He teaching his fellows how to cast Levicorpus during one of the raids and their amused cries when they start practicing the new spell on the Muggles... He and Lucius laughing about the expressions the Muggles had... Lily, Potter, Dumbledore, Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius, Macnair, the thief, the Auror, Voldemort... and the ever present big green eyes of the Potters' boy..._

ooooo

_Voldemort's Lair  
Early February, 1981_

"Lucius. What has happened?" Snape asked, joining the circle. His Mark had burned and he had Apparated to Voldemort's seat after casting a swift sobering and cleansing charm on himself.

Clutching his arm (the summons had been a vicious one), young Malfoy shook his head. "I have no idea, Severus." Distracted by his own pain, the blond wizard never registered the black circles under Snape's eyes or his overall tired and defeated posture.

The other Death Eaters completed the circle, silently nodding their greetings or joining without acknowledging anybody. The Dark Lord entered the room then, his silk robe flying around him, his face pale and evil. "Avery, Malfoy, Macnair: step forward." When they did, the familiar cold voice cried, his immense power evident behind the word, "Crucio!" Avery fell to the floor. "Crucio!" Malfoy's limbs spasmed and after a while he followed Avery to the ground. Macnair knelt and bent his head. Another "Crucio!" was cast in his direction. "Snape, Dolohov, Rookwood!"

The Cruciatus had been cast for another half an hour. When Voldemort finally stopped and seated himself on his throne, Bellatrix Lestrange entered the room. "It's over, my Lord," she whispered with a deep satisfaction. "Good," his threatening voice answered in low tones.

The Dark Lord turned to his fold then; all the Death Eaters now kneeling on their places. "A traitor was discovered in our midst. I have dealt with him accordingly as you will soon see. But listen to me first. AND LISTEN CAREFULLY. ALL OF YOU! Be forewarned, I will not have this ever again. A traitorous thought and you will end as he did. Or even worse." The quiet words had the desired effect. Snape shook inside and could see how some of his fellows visibly flinched as well. They were all led to the antechamber of the throne room...

A figure was spread on the floor there, the body an indescribable mess, the limbs in the strangest angles, recognizable only by the hair. Regulus Black. Severus recalled Malfoy's prediction. He swallowed to overcome his urge to vomit.

Voldemort circled around them, his wand ready. Nobody moved. Nobody asked what had happened. Nodding satisfied to himself, Voldemort hissed: "Take this as my last warning to you and do your best to never disappoint me again! I won't be merciful to you..."

Laughing cruelly, Voldemort pointed his wand at the body. "Incendio!" he shouted, and the maimed remains of Regulus Black disappeared in flames.

ooooo

_Spinner's End  
February and March, 1981_

The young man sat by his fireplace at Spinner's End and sipped a sobering solution mixed with a hangover cure. He had spent the previous evening drinking in the local pub, and then bringing a new whiskey supply to the house. However, before he could open the first bottle, his exhaustion caught up with him. Snape was very thankful he had swallowed the Dreamless Sleep potion before he had drifted off. This way he had been able to start thinking his situation over as soon as he had woken up in the morning, not needing to recover from his nightmares first.

Severus had resolved to continue with his service to the Dark Lord until he found any better solution. Voldemort's killing Regulus Black was a good enough reason not to foolishly gamble with his life. He trembled, remembering the rest of the private execution. Severus was not suicidal. That, plus his pitiful state of mind required more mind training, and he knew he had to sober up first to accomplish it.

Not yet privy to Voldemort's recently renewed and increased interest in the children of the prophecy, Severus mastered the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency in early spring 1981, his Potions Mastery long forgotten. He couldn't afford to practice with any of the more accomplished Death Eaters nor let the Dark Lord probe his mind again until he was satisfied with his level of proficiency. He practiced Legilimency on Muggles and asked Lily, Narcissa and Lucius to let him practice both the arts with them. Only Lily was talented in Legilimency but he couldn't meet her more than two times now when he knew her son was very possibly the prophesied child. He also did not tell her why he trained himself in these obscure magical arts.

In the middle of March 1981, Severus was finally confident in his abilities. Routinely practicing clearing his mind before going to sleep let Snape enjoy his nights again; only the big green eyes of Lily's son stayed. He didn't care. The young man regained some fragile peace of mind after he had accidentally found a kind letter Dumbledore had written him after his graduation, a year before that _damned, damned, damned_ prophecy had been delivered. Snape decided he was neither experienced nor powerful enough to solve this mess by himself and if someone was, it was Dumbledore. A more patient and wiser approach was needed – and Severus was willing to forget the past wrongs in the name of the future. Future for both him (as Slytherins always weight their gains first) and the Potters – and the Longbottoms, whom he remembered only very vaguely.

He approached the Dark Lord and announced he was prepared the last week of March. Voldemort cast the most brutal Legilimens on him and Severus was on his knees in less than five seconds. But his barriers held and he lived. With a twisted, evil smile, the Dark Lord announced that Severus should start to pack and compose his application; there would be an opening at Hogwarts soon_._ Severus was too intelligent to ask how Voldemort knew. He thanked his Master and Apparated back to Spinner's End. The only thing he could do now was wait. And Severus swore to himself he would be patient enough to survive this and, if fate would be merciful, to help the people he got into this mess.

The boy had changed, but the real question was whether the world would be able to accept that and acknowledge him for it. Severus, being always candid with himself, knew it would at least take plenty of time. But he was willing to wait – hoping he would be strong enough to survive should he be left on his own.

ooooo


	7. The Last Straw

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 7: The Last Straw**

_A/N: __Betaed by cardigrl__; thanks for helpful comments to Esmestrella. (-:_

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Late March 1980_

Dumbledore had already reached his 130th year several years ago, but he had rarely felt so bone-tired as the evening he returned from his interview with Sybil Trelawney at the Hog's Head. Hogwarts had its new Divination Professor and Dumbledore two more worries: in a couple of months a child that might be able to defeat Lord Voldemort once and for all would be born (if he interpreted the prophecy right, certainly) and Voldemort would no doubt hunt the boy or the girl in question until it came down to the very last encounter between them, ending very possibly with the death of the yet unborn child; and then there was the other child he worried about – the young man he claimed almost his, for he was a troubled one and at the same time a person one could so very easily have been proud of, had the circumstances been different – Severus Snape.

He sighed – Snape had still borne too much hatred towards him in his eyes. The Headmaster, however, had also seen something else there – something the boy had probably not been aware of himself. There was a flicker of shame and it kindled Dumbledore's hope for the young man anew. The spark of shame was the reason why he let Severus go so easily – and now he had to pray that it was the right decision because there was unfortunately no doubt the young man would deliver the part of the prediction he overheard to his associates. The only thing Dumbledore wasn't sure about was whether Snape was a Death Eater himself...

Dumbledore's eyes found the sofa and the old man immediately recalled the two occasions when Severus had slept there: the night of the werewolf incident and the night after Bertha Jorkins was injured. Could he have done more or approached events any differently? He didn't know – the outcome might have been much worse, as it could have been much better.

There was, however, one afternoon he recalled always first and foremost when his thoughts wandered to the past Potions prodigy of the school. He had given the boy's mother a promise once, and that promise had contributed to his restraint in not treating the boy more harshly tonight.

It had rained heavily that afternoon and Spinner's End really hadn't appeared to be the most appealing corner in England. And yet, Eileen Prince, married Snape, managed to give the place something of herself, something she had preserved despite all the unfortunate turns in her life – kindness. She loved her son and if Dumbledore was not gravely mistaken, Severus did love his mother. People capable of such feelings could not be entirely bad, the old man thought, hoped and prayed...

ooooo

_Spinner's End_

_Summer Holidays 1977_

_Snape is to enter his last Hogwarts year_

"Do you want to see him or her?" a middle-aged man with a hooked nose, black hair and sallow skin asked instead of greeting as soon as he took in that the man who rang on their entrance door wore under his Muggle raincoat unmistakable wizarding robes done in light purple tones. As if the long white beard and equally long white hair wouldn't be weird enough!

The other man didn't seem to mind this unfriendly welcome at all. He smiled brightly over his half-moon spectacles and said, his voice kind, "Both, if you wouldn't mind, Mr. Snape."

"Why would I care?" the man mumbled, letting the visitor in. "But the boy is not here right now."

"I would prefer to speak with Eileen first, anyway," the wizard offered while drying his coat with a well-trained flick of his wand, and the man nodded.

"Do you know she has been ill?" the man inquired in harsh tones.

"I was very sorry to hear that," his visitor said, sounding truly saddened. Mr. Snape viewed him with sudden interest. "You are no relative of hers," he proclaimed then, sounding absolutely certain.

"No, not directly anyway." The wizard nodded as he continued, "But the wizarding families are all related, as you are surely aware. Be it through an old marriage or even older direct relationship. I think one of my great-grandaunts married a cousin of your wife's great-great-grandmother, but that is by no means what one would call a close relative."

Mr. Snape gave an affirmative nod, "Who are you then?" he frowned slightly, still keeping his visitor in the small entrance-hall of the house.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore," the wizard beamed. "I am..."

"Director of Severus's school," Mr. Snape finished the sentence and once again measured the wizard in his petite entrance-hall. "Is the boy in any trouble?" he asked, his voice holding a threatening undertone.

"Not really," Dumbledore demurred. "But much of it depends on Severus himself."

"You can speak to me then," the man suggested, certain his teenage son _was_ in trouble.

Albus Dumbledore shook his head. "Normally, I wouldn't object to that as I am well aware your wife is not feeling well, but I need to determine something about your son's abilities and I fear Eileen may be the only appropriate judge. It's important," the old wizard emphasized.

Mr. Snape regarded him for a while and then abruptly nodded. "She would never forgive me if I wouldn't let you see her," the man muttered, then pointed at the door in front of them and explained, "This way."

The room they entered was tiny, but appeared friendly and welcoming, with its spare but homey decoration and a steaming teakettle on the table. A thin, very pale woman was sitting in an armchair by the fireplace, napping tightly wrapped in a thick blanket. Dumbeldore's host led the way to her and, though he had previously seemed extraordinarily unkind, even Muggles were capable of small charms on occasion, and his face lit with a kind smile as he lowered himself next to her and caressed her black hair sprinkled with early white. "I will wake her up for you but be nice to her," he demanded quietly from Dumbledore, his gaze still on the woman.

"I would never ask you to do it, if it were not important," the man behind him replied in the same manner. "And you don't have to worry about me being nice." Mr Snape nodded.

"Eileen, dear, you have a visitor," he attempted to gently wake his wife.

"My mother?" the pale woman wondered, shielding her eyes for a moment against the bright light coming from the outside.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, Eileen," her husband squeezed her hand.

His wife blinked up in surprise, managing a small welcoming smile. "Professor Dumbledore!" she greeted and began to extricate herself from the covers. The Headmaster approached her and shook his head, saying, "that won't be necessary, Eileen. I won't stay long."

"It's because of Severus? Has anything happened?" the pale woman asked, complying with his request.

"Yes and no. I shall explain shortly but maybe..." His eyes found Severus's father. "Mr. Snape, would you mind if we discuss this alone?" Dumbledore wondered.

Dumbledore had been told the man didn't like magic. Maybe explaining what his son was capable of might prove to be entirely too overwhelming for him, even though Dumbledore only intended to discuss the abilities, not the damage, considering the current state of Mrs. Snape .

"Toby, we will be all right alone," the lady in question decided and her husband gratefully nodded, disappearing upstairs.

"He doesn't like to speak about our "special abilities" as he calls it," Eileen Snape explained.

"Yes, so your uncle told me before he died." Dumbledore nodded. "How are you feeling, my dear?" he asked politely.

"It has been better." Eileen sadly smiled back. "Tobias will never forgive himself for leaving me here alone that spring but he simply couldn't have known there were wizarding maladies requiring an immediate treatment and Severus was far too small back then..." She coughed. "It is always better in a dry summer. It will improve when it's warmer again."

"I hope you are right," Dumbledore offered a smile of his own, hiding his concern. The symptoms were incurable and increased year to year.

"And Severus?" Eileen interrupted his thoughts curiously before they could turn too pessimistic. Her son was a splendid brewer. Maybe he could dedicate himself to finding at least a partial cure for her when he was out of school.

"Yes, your son... He is a very capable wizard, my dear." Dumbledore began with a piece of praise.

"I know." the pale face of Mrs Snape blushed with pride. "But you are not here to tell me that." The woman smiled knowingly.

"No, I am not," Dumbledore confirmed. "I wanted to ask you about the spells he creates."

Eileen nodded and muttered, "They are dangerous, aren't they?"

"Not necessarily, Eileen," the old wizard denied. "But I need to know how Severus uses them."

_He is wondering if my boy is turning Dark_, Mrs. Snape shivered. "He practiced that cutting curse last summer when slicing Potions ingredients for me," she whispered and hold out her slightly trembling hands. "I am no longer able to do it myself when the weather is colder."

Dumbledore nodded, already relieved. Dark wizards didn't tend to use their spells for helping anybody. But Mrs. Snape hadn't finished yet.

"I saw him turning the neighbor's cat upside down two years ago. I remember how I wanted to shout at him but he didn't drop her harshly – I think he may have even cast some cushioning charm for her... He is _not_ turning Dark, Professor. Severus wouldn't do that... _Not now... Not to me."_ Her voice shook in fear, but she sounded certain.

Dumbledore regarded her kindly, knowing what she had wanted to say and nodded. No, no son who liked his mother would want to disappoint her when she was this ill. And Severus did like her – he saw that when the boy had pleaded with him not to inform his parents. He asked, carefully inquiring, "Severus is a splendid student, Eileen. Had you taught him before he started school?"

Mrs. Snape eyed him suspiciously, if such a fragile being was even capable of that feeling. "Not really," she answered slosly, and then sighed. "He has been using Dark magic besides what you have already reported to me and the spells he created himself, is that it? My uncle left him some books when he died and, seeing how my family treats Severus otherwise, I couldn't hold them back from him. But he swore to me not to use the spells on other children – nor the Professors for that matter. What has he done?"

Dumbledore smiled, ever so kindly. "There was no permanent harm, my dear. You don't have to worry. Severus will serve several detentions in the infirmary next year. That has been already settled and he agrees. But I needed to confirm myself that I have judged the boy right."

"I hope we both have," the mother of the boy in question whispered, nodding. "Try to be patient with him, Professor. He inherited my husband's temper and he has had a difficult time of it in the last couple of years. But in spite of that he is a good boy, I think. Do you want to speak with him now?"

"Your husband informed me that he is away. I think we will solve this some other time." Dumbledore noticed the woman had grown tired.

She chuckled, however, even if only very slightly. Her poor health didn't allow her more. "He is brewing in the cellar. But not a word to Tobias," she said as she jokingly raised her finger and shook it as if she would be the professor.

The Hogwarts Headmaster raised his eyebrows in amusement, glad the witch still managed to enjoy life despite everything that had happened to her, and nodded. It was the boy's hobby and if he preferred to spend the whole summer bent over a cauldron in some dark cellar, then so be it. With the weather outside, after all, one couldn't wonder at it.

ooooo

Dumbledore hoped he would find the boy in a more welcoming mood than when they had seen each other the last time but this wish wasn't to be granted to him. The cellar stank of some animal ingredient the boy had probably recently used in one of his concoctions. Flies buzzed all around, clearly enjoying the dryness and the atmosphere they evidently considered pleasant. Dumbledore entered with a bit of hesitation – but he really needed to speak with the boy. In a way he was even used to this – Horace's workroom hadn't been smelling any nicer during the summers and Dumbledore himself obtained a mastery in potions in his youth.

The young man he sought was lying on his back on a worn sofa in the room's shadows. He was constantly flicking his wand, flies falling to the ground now and then when the boy managed to shoot one of them. An open letter was in the boy's other hand, and Snape was frowning at its contents.

"Good afternoon, Severus," Dumbledore said from the entrance.

The boy jumped up, his wand prepared for attack, the letter slipping from his hand and slowly fluttering to the floor.

"Dumbledore!" the boy hissed, forcefully lowering the wand when he recognized the intruder.

"I hope I am not disturbing you, Severus." Dumbledore smiled and looked around to find him a seat. There was a chair next to the working table and he Accioed it, lowering himself on it after the boy nodded his acquiescence.

Seating himself back to the sofa, Snape unpleasantly snarled, "Might I inquire what you are doing here?"

Dumbledore kept the smile on his face, but on the inside he began to frown. This wasn't going any easier than in June; it actually appeared that the one month had changed the boy's attitude to him to worse.

"Has anything happened, Severus?" he asked carefully, knowing the boy would in all likelihood have some reason to despise him more than ever before. It pained him to see one of his most promising students like this – he feared that the boy's fascination with the Dark Arts would only increase, if Severus stayed in this mood much longer. Dumbledore dreaded the possible outcome of that fascination – especially now, that he knew how much magical power the young man really possessed...

The only answer the old wizard received was a glare full of hatred. Dumbledore wondered what this all was about – one year earlier, Snape was a shy and very polite student excelling in all the subjects he had picked up, a student who always addressed him and all the other teachers with respect and never protested when Dumbledore had to step in during his and the Marauders' fights. The few detentions he had given the boy had changed nothing in their relationship and Dumbledore knew that even the incident with Remus Lupin hadn't brought this amount of hatred. What is this about, Severus? He wondered silently. I have handled the incident with Bertha the best way I could and you didn't seem to mind the punishment back then. Except about the book – but I couldn't have it lying around in the Slytherin dormitories – in any student dorms in that matter...

"What has happened, Severus?" the old wizard asked once again aloud. "I have come to make you a proposition but maybe you could share with me first why are you treating me like this?"

Severus eyed him back, still silent.

Dumbledore sighed. This wasn't getting them any further and he hadn't lied to the boy's mother that he could stay only a short time. "I have an offer for you, Severus," he started therefore anew, hoping his proposal would be accepted and he would be granted a chance to clear all the misunderstandings with the boy. He didn't want Severus to end on the other side in the fight with Voldemort. "I spoke with Horace Slughorn last week and he shared with me you were planning an apprenticeship in Potions after school. I know you are equally interested in the Defence against the Dark Arts. You are probably aware I studied both disciplines along with Transfiguration – but you may not know that I and an old friend of mine, Nicolas Flamel, are conducting new research on the use of magical creatures' blood these days. Let me say it plainly, my boy – we would be delighted if you would join us after you have finished at Hogwarts."

Snape was speechless at first and Dumbledore could read longing in his dark eyes. Oh yes, Severus was one to be tempted with such an offer. If only he would accept it and allow Nicolas and me to guide him away from those who would only misuse his talents! Dumbledore prayed and encouragingly smiled in the boy's direction.

It happened quickly. The longing and acceptance Snape's face had showed only seconds earlier disappeared as the boy's gaze took in the letter that was now lying on the floor between them. Snape's eyes darkened again and he said resolutely, anger again creeping into his voice, "You can't buy me, Dumbeldore!"

Snape picked up the letter and threw it in Dumbledore's direction. "Tell me this is not true and I will reconsider it all and I will even apologize to you. But it's right, isn't it? They almost killed me and you reward Potter not only points but also this? Slytherin doesn't mean much to you, does it, Professor? Oh yes, you would love to have me in that lab of yours – seeing I am one of the best Potions students you have ever had. Ask Evans, she will gladly accept – and she is a Gryffindor, Headmaster! Lucius was right that you don't give a damn about us and I was a fool not to trust him. You won't buy me!" With that, Snape pointed at the letter once again, "Read it and tell me it's not true!"

Dumbledore looked at the piece of paper that had landed on his knees. The letter was signed with _Yours Lily,_ and he knew it meant Lily Evans, the girl Snape had offered instead of himself. The letter read:

_Dear Severus, _

_I hope you are having a very nice summer. Please, greet your mother once again from me and tell her I enjoyed my visit enormously. I hope she is feeling no worse with that dreadful rain outside. Petunia was jealous, I think, so I tried to describe her how foul your cellar smells and I assume she is no longer interested in joining me the next time – should you invite me, of course. For my sister you are the awful boy from that terrible school of mine now. I hope you don't mind terribly!_

_My school letter was waiting for me here – and guess what! I'm the Head Girl! Don't you dare undermine my position by using any of your hexes in front of me! I would have to report you this time... Oh, don't worry, I am only joking. If anybody would deserve to be reported it would be the infamous Marauders – but, and I really don't know what McGonagall and Dumbledore were thinking – James is the Head Boy! I shall meet with him next week but I think we will never get along..._

The missive continued but Dumbledore didn't need to read any longer; he knew what had happened now. "He saved your life, Severus," the Headmaster explained in his kind voice, hoping the boy would see reason.

The young man nodded, disappointed, his face scowling: "I see. The Gryffindor Headmaster favours his House. He has saved his own arse and those of Lupin and Black. And thanks to your splendid ideas I have even seen how much they regretted it. I know that after what happened with Jorkins, I should keep my mouth shut and I shall, but – AND REMEMBER THIS, HEADMASTER! - I am not one to be bought. Good day to you, Professor!" The end of his speech full of sarcasm, Severus deserted the room, the only reminder of his presence the dead flies all around. Dumbledore suddenly wondered just what spell Snape used to dispose of them. With all the hatred in Snape's voice, he wouldn't have wondered if it was the worst of the Unforgivables. But he had failed to notice the green light ordinarily accompanying the curse.

The old man left the room feeling defeated and saddened. He had meant to make up with the boy, to offer him a safe haven until he grew out of this dangerous, emotional phase of his life. But it seemed that wouldn't be granted to him.

ooooo

Upstairs, he had to cross the living room once again. Mrs. Snape was sitting in the same spot, sipping on her tea. She regarded him curiously and taking in his expression, she remarked, "I thought Tobias would never come back after he had found out I was a witch and Severus a wizard. It was the winter I became ill." She sighed, "But he came back and never again shouted at me and has taken care of me ever since that happened. Severus is much the same. He will need time to reconcile with you. But he eventually will."

Startled, Dumbledore looked at her, suddenly aware she knew much more than he had told her.

"That Evans girl was here last week – I trust you know her. They live not far from here." Eileen Snape smiled. "She told me that something has happened between you both and Severus is very angry with you. I hadn't believed it until he ran out of the cellar couple of minutes ago. Be patient with him, Professor," the woman pleaded, and Dumbledore bowed to her and kissed her skeletal hand. She looked at him with gratitude. Then she coughed and the old wizard saw how the handkerchief turned red.

"Eileen," he whispered, knowing well what this meant.

She nodded. "They know it," she said then simply and he understood she meant her son and husband.

"Give him time, Professor. He has a reason to behave as he does," she asked once again, and he gave a nod.

"I shall try to look after him when you are no longer here," he promised, squeezing her frozen hand. "Good-bye, Eileen. It has been a pleasure," he said then, and they both knew it was a farewell.

ooooo


	8. Solitude of a Leader

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 8: Solitude of a Leader**

_A/N: First of all – it was cardigrl who betaed this for you. THANK YOU! _

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Headmaster's Office  
Early April, 1981_

"They are returning," Dilys Derwent, St Mungo's healer in the years 1722-1741 and Headmistress of Hogwarts School in 1741-1768, announced from her portrait to the silence off the office. Dumbledore nodded thankfully, got up from his paperwork and opened the Floo connection. Madam Pomfrey came through first, closely followed by his Deputy. McGonagall shook her head in a negative gesture immediately after their eyes met, but she let Poppy Pomfrey explain. The Mediwitch was the expert here after all...

"I am very sorry, Albus," the nurse said, both women now seated on Dumbledore's sofa. "Nobody has any plausible explanation as to what induced the coma. We have, however, all agreed that any attempt to wake him in this situation may prove fatal – especially if you are right and You-Know-Who is behind the curse."

"I feared as much," Dumbeldore nodded, his eyes absent. The Defence position, so crucial in these dark days, had suffered yet another vacancy and it would be his task to find a new candidate for the job soon. _I will have to ask the Prewetts,_ he thought. _To substitute only – until the end of the current year. No, not permanently; as Aurors they are already endangered enough... _

McGonagall looked at him, suddenly worried, not about her colleague lying at St. Mungo's but rather about the school, and asked him to share his opinion, "What are we going to do with the vacancy, Albus?"

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I suppose one of the Prewetts could take over the position until we have the option of either reinstalling our current teacher or finding a substitute. Fabian for one promised that he would take the position in such a case last winter – on the condition the contract would be only a temporary one. I am afraid we may very well grant it to him." His voice was humorless and turned even more serious with the next sentence: "I fear also that there is no longer any doubt about the existence of the curse on the position. Leave it to Lord Voldemort not to depart this school without leaving a memorial for himself. But, yes, probably Fabian Prewett until the end of the school year and then we will have to reconsider the situation based on the circumstances. In all probability, though, we will have to look for a new Professor..."

_Especially seeing how reliably the jinx on the position works_, McGonagall thought but nodded. Aloud, she asked: "Shall I contact Fabian for you?"

"That won't be necessary, Minerva," Dumbledore shook his head. "Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black shall stop by in less than hour and I may give them a message for Fabian then. You know I prefer not to use the Floo in the current situation, and any owl may be intercepted. Also, I can't use Fawkes seeing as he had his Fire day only yesterday and the Prewetts are temporarily away on a Ministry mission..."

"...which keeps anyone but an associate from contacting them," McGonagall finished the sentence.

"Precisely," Dumbledore beamed at her.

"James then?" the Deputy Headmistress inquired.

"Yes, either he or Sirius." Dumbledore confirmed. "But probably James – he has cooperated closely with the Prewetts recently as you are both aware." McGonagall and Pomfrey nodded almost simultaneously. Sirius Black and James Potter, along with Lupin and Pettigrew, all joined the Order after they left Hogwarts. And now, when no Severus Snape was in sight, the once biggest mischief-makers of the school were able to achieve much working together, with their minds directed to more dignified goals than harassing the young Slytherin...

"Good," the Deputy Headmistress nodded. "With this settled, we will leave you to let you proceed with all that paper flood before Black and Pettigrew arrive, Albus." McGonagall stood, immediately followed by the nurse. "We shall see you at dinner..."

ooooo

_St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
Second week of April 1981  
Early morning_

_Were they targeted because of my offer? _Dumbledore's conscience was again wondering when the old, very fragile-looking man Apparated to St. Mungo's and accessed the local emergency ward. An obviously pregnant Molly Weasley was standing in the corridor there, sobbing, supported by her husband; Mediwizards in lime-green uniforms hastened from door to door in the never ending fight against death. A nurse approached the young couple, offering Molly a steaming cup of tea clearly laced with some calming draught, if Dumbledore could judge by the look the girl exchanged with Arthur Weasley.

"Good morning, Arthur. Molly," the old wizard said quietly.

Arthur Weasley acknowledged him with a nod, his wife's stream of tears never ebbing to allow her the same. "Pro..fes...sor," she sniffled after a while, taking the handkerchief her husband held ready for her. She blew her nose and managed, "Fabian... and Gideon... They... they are... both dead, Headmaster." Arthur confirmed her statement with a single nod and caressed the witch's red, unusually unkempt hair. It was half past four in the morning and Dumbledore was not one to wonder about that. His mind was distracted anyway.

_Gideon and Fabian Prewett ... yet another two names to add to his long list. Yet another two fine young men who died because he had asked them to join the fight... No, not join the fight_, Dumbledore corrected himself swiftly, but felt responsible anyway. _They had already joined the resistance earlier, being Aurors, but still. What had possessed him to ask them to substitute for the blasted position? What had possessed him to contribute to the danger they were already facing anyway? Five Death Eaters to take down the two... Alastor was a member of the team sent to aid the young Aurors, but it was too late when they arrived... _Dumbledore had been briefed in detail less than an hour earlier and hurried to the hospital, already knowing there was no hope but praying anyway...

Moisture was glittering in his eyes when he approached the expectant mother and her protector of a husband and said, sincerity and pain plain in his voice, "I am very sorry, Molly... Gideon and Fabian were wonderful people. We shall all miss them... They shall never be forgotten..." The words sounded so very wrong and so incredibly empty that he resolved not to say anything else, except to assure the pair of his friendship and support: "If you need anything, anything at all, Molly, Arthur, please, don't hesitate to ask..." The witch nodded hesitantly, not feeling herself able to answer out loud, despite the hot liquid laced with calming potions she had consumed earlier.

Arthur said only five words, words that hurt Dumbledore anew, "Thank you, Professor, for everything." Then the young man guided his wife away.

The Headmaster remained standing in the middle of the corridor, feeling that he was to blame here, and thinking that no one should be thanking him. His kind blue eyes were already filling with tears when he Apparated back to Hogsmeade and he was crying freely as he made his first steps to the castle, protected by the slowly dissolving night. _How many more deaths would this war cost in the end? And how many of them could be laid at his feet? ...How much more would he be able to shoulder?_

Many hours later, as Dumbledore vainly sought sleep, with Fawkes perched above him and trilling his consolation, the old wizard thought that he wouldn't be able to offer his strength for much longer, if it continued to be taxed at this rate. He felt keenly the lack of someone with whom he could share his sorrows and dreads.

Minerva, Aberforth, his staff, the entire Order: they all saw a leader in him, a leader with no weaknesses at all. Fawkes knew better, but with all the wisdom his previous owners left with him, even the old wizard's familiar never understood how difficult some of the Headmaster's decisions in fact were.

Dumbledore needed a person by his side who wouldn't hesitate to argue with him when he was to make a difficult decision, a person who wouldn't worship him and would see beyond the front of a man equally blessed and cursed with enormous magical power and extraordinary intelligence. In the very depths of his soul, he longed for someone who would also see in him a simple man capable of making mistakes, a man who might be proven wrong...

Once, the Headmaster had briefly thought he had found this person in an angry student of his, a student who argued with him, not for his own sake (despite doing so later), but for the sake of his fellow students, however poorly they had handled him. But the boy carrying the name of Severus Snape had disappeared from his sight for months and when he reappeared, it was clear that he now belonged to the opposite side... A waste Dumbledore was at least partly responsible for – another young man whose name he would in all likelihood have to add to his list of the deaths he had contributed to.

The wizard swallowed the tears once again threatening to overcome him and raised his hand to caress Fawkes. The touch of the rich scarlet plumage gave him new strength and enough courage to sleep. But the old man knew that this was only a temporary solution. What he needed was a trusted equal – someone Dumbledore hadn't had for ages now; someone he might never have again…

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
Headmaster's Office  
Middle of April 1981_

The pile of the applications for the Defence position was small this time – and Dumbledore unconvinced he should fill the vacancy with any of the candidates. No, those people he knew better were either not suited for teaching or, even worse, not educated enough in his eyes, and to employ someone unfamiliar was entirely too risky in the current situation. Especially seeing that some of the references these applicants sent didn't seem genuine. The rumor about the curse on the position had spread entirely too swiftly for Dumbledore's liking – and to obtain a well educated, well trained or simply acceptably experienced Defence teacher would have equaled a miracle at this moment...

The Hogwarts' Board of Governors generally left it to the Headmasters of the school to judge the qualifications of the candidates for the teaching positions. Official Mastery in the subject was commonly not required; experience and knowledge, however, were.

Albus Dumbledore was sure that the youngest applicant of that year – despite his young age – fulfilled both of these requirements. Unfortunately, the Headmaster was also sure that the boy would be the most unlikely candidate to receive the position in the end. The reason was simple; the young man's name was Severus Snape.

Dumbledore may still have borne a soft spot for this particular young man, but he wasn't sentimental enough to let any – true or rumored – follower of Voldemort work at the school responsible for the education of the whole British and Irish wizarding youth.

ooooo

The grey liquid swirling in the Pensieve was flashing in Dumbledore's eyes from its place next to the pile of the applications. From time to time, the hooked-nosed face of his past star student appeared on the surface and the old man sighed repeatedly as he added each new memory into the stone basin. The memories were not solely about Snape; there were also several of the other applicants, but somehow Severus Snape managed to get most of his attention as hehad once done in real life. 

Finally, the Pensieve was prepared for the examination. Dumbledore took the bowl in his long-fingered hands and for a while simply observed the ever-changing scenes, all the flashes of the past he felt the need to be reminded of. Not surprisingly, the old man spent most of the time viewing and analyzing the memories that included the Slytherin boy. We all tend to care the most about our most troubled children and Dumbledore was no different…

Severus Snape as he had first seen him – the tiny, lonely boy hidden by the window at Horace Slughorn's soirée...

Severus as an angry teenager, shooting down flies in his parents' cellar...

The second-year Mr. Snape as he performed perfect and most advanced Transfiguration charms in the lesson Dumbledore covered for McGonagall when her father died; Snape's face lighting with a pleased small smile when the Headmaster praised him, the expression fast changing into one of annoyance when Sirius Black sneered something about being able to Transfigure a mouse into a goblet and not knowing how to wash his own hair...

The same second-year Severus as Professor McGonagall brought him up to Dumbledore's office for being caught with a Dark Potions book (thanks to Peter Pettigrew's warning), the boy's mind subjected to Dumbeldore's gentle probing for the first time ever - filled with the trust and esteem he used to held the Headmaster in… 

The teenage Snape white as a sheet, shaking in the corner of the Infirmary...

And then Severus as he remembered him best – scowling seventh year, imposing and giving an impression of darkness and danger while carrying around yet another book on the Dark Arts... No, Dumbledore suddenly noticed and froze – it was a title on Occlumency that time, and actually a book the Headmaster had recommended himself. He hadn't realized it back then – and had wondered about the betrayed expression the boy wore when he was telling him off… 

The old wizard sighed, saddened and disappointed with himself. It seemed that his relationship with the young wizard was full of unnecessary misunderstandings. And to think that he congratulated himself on understanding his students!

In that moment, another shard of a memory decided to reach the surface of the Pensieve. Again Severus Snape and, moreover, a memory Dumbledore kept reviewing probably entirely too often – the Shrieking Shack incident. The Headmaster had been viewing this one whenever he had been having doubts whether any other approach from him would have changed the young Slytherin's fate. With another sigh, Dumbledore touched the silver liquid with a finger and slowly fell down into the grey mist...

ooooo

The circular office of Hogwarts Headmasters and Headmistresses, his past self nearing the sofa the young man slept on that night, his present self remaining in the shadows. 

"How are you feeling, Severus?" he remembered gently asking, knowing the boy had been awake for some time already. He recalled hoping Snape had had enough time to realize where he was and why, as well as who was with him. 

"I wasn't bitten, if you were asking about that," the boy scowled at him. 

"I was very relieved to hear that, my boy," Dumbledore nodded, seating himself in an armchair opposite to the boy. "You have to be very thankful that young Mr. Potter risked his life to save your own." 

Snape shook his head, unbelievingly: "You say it like it was some act of bravery. They wanted to kill me, Professor!"

The Headmaster's blue gaze, fixed on the boy, stayed calm. "I agree with you that this reached the boundaries, Severus," Dumbledore opined, "and I insist that the five of you end this immature hostility immediately… Nevertheless, I don't think Misters Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin would have ever intended to really harm you…"

"You are desperately naïve, Professor," Snape harshly interrupted him.

The old Headmaster regarded him kindly. "That is entirely too possible. I have never claimed the opposite, my boy. But to kill a man is more difficult than you may think, Severus. I don't believe your classmates would be capable of such a crime, as I wouldn't think you capable of it…"

"Pity you can't hear how amused the quartet is right now, Professor," Snape laughed humorlessly.

Dumbledore peered at him from behind his half-moon glasses: "Is this what you really think, my boy?" he inquired. 

The boy shook his head, not answering aloud. 

The old Headmaster nodded, unsurprised. Then he quietly said, "I will take you to the Infirmary for a moment, if I may. As unbelievable as it may seem to you now, there are not many things people are able to regret more than betraying their friends, Severus… Mr. Black is very probably deeply shaken at this moment…" He smiled kindly at the boy and extended his hand to help him up. Then he raised his wand and waved it in a complicated gesture above both Snape's and his own head; immediately, their bodies disappeared from sight. Snape felt the Headmaster's bony hand touch his shoulder – slowly, he let himself be guided through the Floo to the Infirmary. Madam Pomfrey's office was empty. Silently, they entered the main room…

Deathly pale, Remus Lupin was resting on one of the beds on the other side of the room, James Potter and Sirius Black both present as Minerva McGonagall had promised. Madam Pomfrey was handing Lupin one Potions flask after another. When the contents of the last one were swallowed, she nodded, satisfied, and patted the pale Gryffindor on a shoulder, then turned her attention to the supplies cupboard. Dumbledore remembered holding onto Snape's shoulder and awaiting confirmation of his prediction.

In the end, however, it was not Sirius Black who apologized to Remus Lupin, but James Potter.

"Moony," he started hesitantly. "Do you remember anything from last night?" 

Even from the distance, Dumbledore noticed how nervous the boy on the bed grew. "Did something happen?" Lupin swallowed. 

James licked his lips and started to answer, but Sirius Black was faster: "Nothing serious, Moony, don't you worry. Prongs here is just exaggerating as always." James Potter looked at Sirius with disapproval, as if wanting to say something, but in the end he remained silent. Lupin eyed them suspiciously, to finally ask, "Padfoot?"

"Nothing, really…"

"Sirius!" Lupin demanded an answer, fear creeping in his voice. 

Sirius Black gave a laugh. "Slimy Snivellus decided to explore the corridor under the Whomping Willow…"

Lupin's face was colourless when he looked around, trying to find another occupied bed. None was in sight. The werewolf's voice shook when he attempted to ask after the Slytherin, his question directed to James: "Have I… have I…"

James Potter interrupted him, shaking his head: "No, no. Nothing happened…" Dumbledore felt how Snape's shoulders shifted. He squeezed the one he held, still confident tonight's mischief-maker would soon excuse himself and regret his actions from the previous night. But Sirius Black proved not mature enough…

"Just don't pretend, both of you, that it would have been any waste! Snape simply doesn't deserve anything else," he grinned good-naturedly.

Remus Lupin regarded him sadly. "I would never forgive myself if I bit anybody," the pale boy whispered finally. Sirius laughed, "Don't take it too seriously, Moony! The git is perfectly all right, sleeping off his two scratches from the Whomping Willow in Dumbledore's tower! I bet he kept sniveling that he was afraid to sleep alone until Dumbledore couldn't stand it any more and took the 'poor little boy' upstairs to blow on his hurts and tuck him in like mummy would do! " he sneered unpleasantly. "Let us hope that yesterday taught Snivellus a lesson about not sticking his nose into our business!"

In that moment, Snape, who was slowly growing agitated, almost wrenched himself from Dumbledore's hold. The old man stood frozen, but the sudden movement under his hand alerted him, and surprisingly quickly, the old man reinforced the grasp on the young man's shoulder. Madam Pomfrey had asked him to take the young Slytherin away from the infirmary for this very reason the previous night, and when he had decided to ignore her orders, he had anticipated a very different outcome. Now, Snape was rightfully angry but he still would have to ask him to keep silent… But first of all, they would have to return to his office.

The Headmaster gently turned Snape to him, and straightaway found the young Slytherin's eyes. The contact was very brief, but Snape took in what Dumbledore asked of him and very unwillingly nodded, never wondering how the Headmaster was able to see him despite the charm still concealing them both. His hand now firmly holding Snape's upper arm, Dumbledore Flooed them both upstairs. 

"Severus," the present Dumbledore saw himself saying, while taking the Invisibility charm off the boy, "I am sure young Mr. Black didn't mean what he was saying in earnest..."

The boy smiled humorlessly, his face incredibly pale between the stark red scratches inflicted by the Whomping Willow the previous night. "I am sure," he said with a single nod then. "I suppose he has never learnt how to apologize with his noble family..."

"If I am not mistaken, you are from an equally old and respected family, Severus," Dumbledore remarked casually. Then he snapped his fingers and ordered tea and something sweet from the petite creature who appeared in the room with a quiet crack. When the old Professor turned back to the boy, he noticed that Snape was even paler. "Are you feeling well, my boy?" he inquired, attempting to guide the young wizard to his sitting suite.

Once seated there, Snape covered his face with his long-fingered hands. After a long while, during which the House Elf reappeared with the demanded items, Snape lowered them and very quietly asked, "Was it worth it to take me there? Did you have to do it?"

Dumbledore didn't reply immediately. His kind eyes landed on the perch of his familiar for a fleeting moment, then again measured the boy. "This is not an ordinary grudge between classmates," he said then, as if anything had happened. 

"And this took you five years to notice, Professor?" Snape sneered at him, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "It has been a very taxing five years, Severus," he tried to explain. 

"I am sure," Snape sardonically remarked. "So taxing that it even occurred to you to name a werewolf a Prefect of this school! Has it ever occurred to you that he actually may bite somebody? No, it hasn't," he answered himself. "Why else would you let the creature study here?"

"Remus Lupin is a fine young man, Severus," Dumbledore said patiently. 

"Evidently," Snape smirked. 

Dumbledore looked at him with a sigh: "Remus Lupin is a very brave young man, my boy… A young man who simply happened to be very unlucky, but who still finds it in himself to face his fate with unusual courage. Nevertheless, not many people in our world would find it in themselves to treat him without prejudice should they be privy to his secret, Severus. I must ask you to keep his secret, my boy."

"WHAT?" Snape cried out in disbelief. "You mean that you want to let him stay here and endanger other people?" 

"I assure you that we will increase the precautions, Severus. If you don't share your knowledge about how to reach the corridor leading to the Shrieking Shack with your classmates, there shouldn't be anybody tempted to follow your example." Dumbledore paused and for a moment scrutinized the boy. Slowly, he went on: "Here I may underline that you were overstepping boundaries yourself, violating the School Order and my repeated warnings not to leave the School Building, nor the dormitories for that matter after curfew…"

With a sardonic smile, Snape opined: "You are a fool if you think I am the only one who doesn't follow your instructions and orders, Headmaster! What about the firsties trying to prove how brave they are? Do you know how dangerous this all is? I won't keep silent, if you don't give me any more plausible reason why I should!" Snape emphasized with raised voice.

Dumbledore folded his hands under his chin, knowing this conversation could prove to be a prolonged one.

"Do you know how it feels to be ostracized, Severus, for something you are not able to change?" the old man asked quietly. "Do you know what the fate of Remus Lupin would be if wizarding society were to reject him?" 

A blank gaze was his only answer. He tried again: "You have been attending the same school for five years now. Tell me, Severus, has Remus Lupin's state ever endangered either you or any other student if you do not count last night?"

Snape bit his lip and cast his eyes down. He never was one to lie. After a while he shook his head and then whispered, "Not that I would be aware of."

"And he hasn't." Dumbledore confirmed and smiled gratefully. "You saw Remus Lupin earlier today. Do you really think him responsible for last night, Severus?" The question hung in the air between them, Snape desperately trying not to answer. At the end, though, he did – quietly and hesitantly as before. "No," he said, voice barely above a whisper, and Dumbledore smiled again, more cheerfully this time.

"How does it feel to be ostracized because of your origins, my boy?" the Headmaster questioned. 

The boy kept his eyes down; this was not a topic he liked to discuss. "Unwanted," was the single-word answer.

Dumbledore nodded, satisfied, if saddened that the Princes had never accepted Severus. Another question was even quieter: "How would it feel to you to be in Remus Lupin's place now, my boy?" 

Snape's eyes were hollow when he turned them up at the old man. The gaze accused Dumbledore of another unforgivable crime, and Dumbledore felt as if Severus would openly say 'Why do you do it to me? Why do you torment me?' In the end, however, the boy said another single word, one of compassion. "Betrayed," Snape breathed, and Dumbledore relaxed. Snape would keep the secret.

"Will you promise me to never reveal the knowledge you have about Remus Lupin, my boy?" Dumbledore attempted to commit Snape. Snape bit his lip again. "No student that introduces danger to the school and its pupils should be allowed to study in a place where he may endanger others," he commented dryly.

"It wasn't Remus who lured you under the Whomping Willow," the Headmaster reminded the boy. 

Snape looked up, his eyes knowing: "But you won't expel Black either." The boy stated this simply, sounding absolutely sure, his voice accusing but in a way surprisingly calm.

"No, I won't expel him," Dumbledore confirmed. "Remus Lupin would be the one suffering the consequences, if I punish him too strictly and the word gets out why I did it. But Sirius will be punished, Severus. This was no longer a joke and I can't leave such a serious violation of school order unattended."

Snape sneered at the understatement, then curiously asked, "Will you punish Potter as well?" 

Dumbledore shook his head. "He wasn't responsible, Severus. If I have understood everything correctly, the initiative was Sirius's only."

"If you have understood everything correctly…" Snape mumbled, clearly not believing the old wizard.

"I assure you that young Mr. Potter wasn't involved, my boy," Dumbledore said firmly. 

Snape shrugged his shoulders, but didn't say anything. 

Dumbledore regarded him kindly. "You are a reasonable young man, Severus. Will you find it in yourself to keep silent about Remus Lupin's state?"

For a long while, Snape stared at Dumbeldore's fireplace without uttering a word. Finally, he seemed to have found his voice again. Curiously, he asked, "Why don't you simply Obliviate me?" 

"I don't believe it quite necessary, my boy." Dumbledore shook his head. "You know what is at stake here. I trust you will decide correctly by yourself." 

Snape swallowed. Hard. He was awfully silent for a long – incredibly long – time. Down in the main castle, the first students were hurrying to the lunch, the sound of their excited voices reaching in an echo to the tower and through the open window in the office where the young and old man were facing each other. Both of them had already known how this encounter would end – Snape only unwilling to confirm Dumbledore's hopes too easily. The boy was biting his lips attempting to swallow his pride and the hatred he felt. Finally, he seemed to overcome himself for he abruptly nodded. 

"I shall swear my silence." Snape looked up then, his voice resolute. "But if – and only if – you will give me a promise that should the werewolf endanger anyone else in the castle, or myself for that matter, that you will mercilessly expel him."

A single nod was his answer. Snape hold the Headmaster in high esteem and understood the nod as if it had been an Unbreakable Vow. He steadily met the old man's eyes and said, clearly and firmly, "I swear to keep the knowledge of Lupin's state secret unless he endangers any student or any other person living in this castle or Hogsmeade."

Dumbledore nodded with a delighted smile. "Thank you, my boy," he said simply, approval and pride in his voice. 

ooooo

The memory ended and Dumbledore landed back in the present. This particular recollection pained him – this very occurrence started to shatter his relationship with the young Slytherin, the boy whom he now longed to have on his side again…

Snape managed to swallow his not punishing Sirius Black accordingly after the Shrieking Shack night, but ever since then the boy had been more restrained around his Headmaster, ever since then he had behaved warily or even suspicious of the old man's intentions. The sense of betrayal, which Dumbledore had seen on Lupin's face the morning after the Shrieking Shack incident, was now ever-present on Snape's face. The old man knew he was responsible for this unwanted change in the boy, but he had never been given the time and opportunity to reconcile with the boy until it was entirely too late. He regretted it now – his heart heavy and grieving whenever he reminded himself what Snape in all likelihood ended as… and where exactly this path started.

ooooo


	9. Road to Hell

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 9: The Road to Hell**

_A/N: Betaed by cardigrl. Thank you!_

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Late May, 1974_

Despite the warm weather, the Quidditch pitchseemed unusually quiet. Except for two children, the stadium was also deserted. The two young occupants of the upper benches, a red haired girl and somewhat dark boy, weren't frequent visitors to the arena but for once seemed to be enjoying the sun rather than their favourite seats in the shadowed library.

As if they could not bear to miss them, each held a book. The occasional giggling of the girl and a chuckle he heard from the boy told Dumbledore, who happened to wander by, that his star pupils were reading somewhat lighter fare for a change.

He smiled fondly, inwardly chuckling at Severus Snape's and Lily Evans' timing. The annual end of year examinations were to start Monday and he was well aware how crowded the library was these days. _Very good, Miss Evans, Mr. Snape. Let us hope that the sight of you two enjoying the afternoon sun spurs your classmates to study sooner next year. _Not _that I have high hopes. _With this thought, the Headmaster continued his pace towards Hogsmeade…

"Severus?" Lily Evans interrupted her friend soon after Dumbledore's figure disappeared behind the school gate.

"Hmm?" Snape asked, his nose still in his book.

"What is an Unbreakable Vow?" Lily questioned curiously, showing him a line in her book. "Do you really have to dieifyou don't fulfill the promise?"

Snape closed his book and nodded. "Yes. Not many people would ask you for it nowadays for that very reason. But it used to be a very frequent oath form back in the Middle Ages. Wizarding husbands often required the vow instead of a marriage promise back then…"

"That's _awful,_ Severus!" Lily exclaimed, horrified. "Imagine if the man died and his wife was never able to remarry or even fall in love again!"

"That was precisely the thought." Severus gave a curt nod, and reopenedthebook on his lap.

Lily, however, had not finished. _"Wait,_ one more question! What is the wand oath, then? Do you lose your magic forever when breaking it?"

"That depends on the wording, Evans." Severus Snape explained patiently, knowing the girl valued the knowledge. "There is the full- and the part-form oath. In the full-form oath, you swear on your magic and breaking it will indeed completely rob you of your magical power. The wording of the part-form oath is in the sense of 'shall any of my incantations go against my wand oath, let it fail.' I guess you already know what happens when you fail to fulfill it… Basically, the oath is anchored in your wand but the full-form oath is additionally connected with your magical core." He gave her a serious look then. _"If_ you are wise, Evans," Severus warned, suddenly sounding very adult, "you will never let anyone coax you into swearing _any _of them."

Lily nodded. "I don't intend to," she assured resolutely.

Snape smiled. Lily was indeed a clever witch. He had immediatelypromised himself much the same as soon as he learnt about the vows himself… Little did he know about his own future life.

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_June, 1977_

However unbelievable it might sound, it was the incident with Bertha Jorkins that let Dumbledore preserve his hopes for Snape. Severus himself kept having nightmares about the occurrence – except during those few weeks when he was enjoying even the Death Eater raids. Oddly, the same incident also gave the boy hope in theHeadmaster's good will towards him, a feeling he desperately needed after he had resolved that Dumbledore would be his only chance to get out of the mess he was in and remain in one piece.

Snape still recalled how furious he had been that particular day at the end of his sixth year. While the boy may have spent the whole school year after the unfortunate incident with Lupin nursing feelings of anger and hatred, Bertha Jorkins' day was by far the worst moment of his schooling. He remembered how Lily Evans tried to console him when he had once again fumed about Dumbledore's damned favoritism towards the wonderful four, and now sincerely regretted that he had never let her reason with him…

"Sectum Sempra!" the young man recalled shouting aloud; then he always recalled the huge puddle of blood forming on the ground under Bertha Jorkin's unconscious body, as well as Lily crying out in shock and then sprinting away to get help. To his shame, he had stood frozen on the spot the entire time and wasn't able to do anything other than look at the suffering girl with a morbid fascination and fear... Only his mind shouted for help and, as if the bird had somehow heard it, the Headmaster's Phoenix appeared in a flash of light in front of him. Severus inexplicably knew that he was to grab the girl and hold onto the bird's feathers…

Fawkes flew them to the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey, never asking what had happened, shoved the boy over into the corner. He stood there until the worst of the damage was healed, and then the nurse snapped at him to make himself useful and hand her the healing draughts she listed. Severus did it mechanically and then returned to his spot. It was where Dumbledore, summoned by Lily and his familiar, found him several minutes later when he entered the infirmary. Seeing the boy was in shock, the old man called for a House Elf and asked for a mug of hot cocoa. Severus was carefully seated on one of the beds and wrapped in a blanket. The diminutive creature was left with him to coax the teenager in drinking the sweet beverage.

The babbling of Bertha Jorkins, together with a very gentle probing of her mind, gave Dumbledore a general idea of what had happened and the Headmaster regarded Severus with a deep sigh. The boy wasn't evil, that he knew, and it was also more than clear when they saw him shaking and deathly pale on the opposite bed. Dumbledore knew that he was one of the reasons the boy acted nastier that year. He considered the trembling student carefully and then asked Madam Pomfrey to speak to him in the privacy of her office.

Several minutes later, Dumbledore and the nurse reemerged from her office and the old wizard approached the boy. Carefully, the old Headmaster delicately cradled the boy's cold, sweaty hands in his. "Are you responsible for this, Severus?" the Headmaster asked gently – too gently to be addressing an ordinary mischief-maker, Snape thought later.

Severus nodded, looking at the Headmaster wide-eyed – not in all resembling his normal, increasingly disrespectful and angry self.

"What was the spell you used, Severus?" Dumbledore attempted to keep eye contact.

"I... it's..." Snape stuttered. "I call it Sectum Sempra," he said finally, ashamed.

"And where do you know it from?" the Headmaster probed further.

"It's... it's mine," the boy said, and looked at the Headmaster in despair.

"Did you hear him? HE CREATED IT! He wanted to kill me! He planned it!" Bertha Jorkins interrupted, yelling from her bed, cowering behind Madam Pomfrey's back.

"It wasn't meant... for anybody... now..." the boy continued stammering, his eyes directed to his trembling knees and the pair of wrinkled hands holding his own.

Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. "I will take him upstairs. I don't think it wise to keep them in one room for now."

The nurse nodded. "You are right, Albus. It would be better for them both. Do you have a calming draught and Dreamless Sleep?" she asked, turning to her supply cabinet.

Dumbledore halted her and helped the boy up. "I have everything I might need, Poppy," the Headmaster assured her, and Flooed with the distraught teenager to his tower.

Once up there, Dumbledore seated his student on the sofa and again arranged a warm blanket around his frozen figure. "Severus," he tried to get the boy's attention. When he failed, he ordered another hot cocoa and laced it with Potions he retrieved from the cache of vials on his writing table.

Snape calmed immediately after consuming the mug's contents and whispered, "I never wanted to harm anybody… this much… Please, believe me, Professor!" In despair, Snape looked beseechingly at the Headmaster.

Dumbledore knew the boy enough to be able to trust him after this emotional display and he said that much to the boy.

"Thank you," Snape sleepily mumbled in answer. "Don't... tell my mother... she... she is too ill… to know… this..." the boy managed, his eyes closing.

Severus wasn't aware that Dumbledore spent half the night in the armchair next to him, considering what to do with him now. The young wizard was aware, however, that he could have been expelled that very moment – but then, Black hadn't been either… But would Black's parents have even cared? Severus's mother wouldn't live through it, if she heard about this, the boy thought and swore. _Damn! Why did he have to be so stupid? _

ooooo

It was not a new sensation for the young wizard to wake up in the Headmaster's suite the following day. He had slept on the Headmaster's sofa several months earlier after the "joke that had almost gone wrong," as he now referred to the werewolf incident in his own mind with a knowing smirk. He knew Black would have let him out there and wondered what had possessed Potter to go after him. Back then, he was treated in much the same way as today – warm blanket, hot cocoa, Dreamless Sleep draught and an earnest conversation scheduled for the morning.

There was one thing Snape knew for sure in his state between wakefulness and sleep that morning – this time, the Headmaster was not going to sympathize with him. But hell, who asked anything of him now?

Severus felt deeply betrayed by the Shrieking Shack incident and the way Dumbledore handled it. Black should have been punished more, since he was not expelled, and Snape should not have been manipulated in keeping quiet the way he had been. The lack of reaction from the Headmaster's side and his sad home situation left Severus fuming; on bad days, he teetered on the brink of threatening to hex anyone whose wand was out when they crossed his path.

For whatever reason, Snape had never followed through on any of his intimidations until the previous day. It was obvious, though, and not only to the aging Headmaster, that the boy must have been even more fascinated with the Dark Arts than he had previously revealed.

Dumbledore had tried to bring Severus back to reason but it had proven extremely difficult. Now the Headmaster suspected that their recent encounter contributed to Snape's anger and led to this last unfortunate event. Should he really have stepped in in the fight sooner or maybe at least attempted to bring Mr. Black to apologize to the Slytherin? But would Sirius have done it sincerely? And most of all, would Severus have accepted any empty words? 

Unlike Severus' shaking in shock because of what he had done wrong, Sirius Black had never shown any remorse over leading Snape into mortal danger. Unfortunately, Snape himself was aware of the fact as Dumbledore had taken him (both wizards protected by some obscure enchantment of invisibility) to the infirmary the morning after the joke when Black and Potter were scheduled to inform their werewolf friend about the previous night's happenings. It took many long minutes before Sirius told Remus Lupin what had happened – but when he did, he stated quite clearly it would have been no loss if Snivellus had died out there. Dumbledore had paled hearing it and took the Slytherin boy away. It was a small miracle that Snape was willing to keep silent about the incident after this occurrence, a miracle that happened only because the Headmaster had known which buttons to push.

ooooo

"Good morning, Severus," the old Headmaster greeted this morning, clearly knowing Severus was only pretending to be still asleep. "I trust you will be relieved to hear that Miss Jorkins is completely healed and waits only on your apologies."

_Oh yes, Slytherins have to excuse themselves,_ Severus thought, but gave an affirmative nod.

"Good," Dumbledore smiled and continued softly, "Then, if I may, breakfast is served." Severus could see the two House Elves busying themselves with the table behind the old wizard. He stood, neatly folded the blanket and then again lowered himself in one of the chairs by the table, the possibility he could leave the Headmaster's suite never occurring to him.

After a while, the teenager found he couldn't eat. He was far too nervous. "What are you going to do, Professor?" Snape hesitantly asked instead, his hands anxiously playing with a piece of toast.

Dumbledore shifted his gaze from his scrambled eggs up to the young wizard. "That depends on you, my boy," the Headmaster said, not unkindly, while folding his hands under his chin. "What would you do in my place, Severus?" the old man asked.

Snape stared at the Headmaster, taken by surprise for a while; then the boy again lowered his eyes. Did Dumbledore ask the same question of Black? Snape wondered silently. Somehow, he didn't think so and Dumbledore indeed hadn't. There were reasons why the Headmaster hadn't punished Sirius Black more severely half a year earlier. One of them was called maturity – Sirius acted like the spoiled child he was brought up as. Back then, Snape did possess this quality. It had been clear since the moment the boy had sworn his silence about Remus Lupin's unfortunate secret. The Slytherin did so unwillingly and with many objections, but in the end he complied with the Headmaster's request.

Severus again proved his maturity that very moment. Eyes downcast, the young man offered quietly: "I would expel myself, Professor. I think I made myself clear after the Shrieking Shack incident."

Dumbledore nodded: "No student that introduces danger to the school and its pupils should be allowed to study in a place where he may endanger others." Word for word he repeated Snape's opinion on his policy of offering a place at Hogwartsto one particular werewolf. "Do you still hold to this?" the old man demanded, sincerely interested.

Snape swallowed, hard. He was to sign his death sentence but he knew he had been right. He looked up and confirmed, "Yes, I do. I could have killed her." His eyes were steady as he met Dumbledore's eyes, even though his soul was trembling.

Unexpectedly, the Headmaster beamed at him. "Congratulations on being able to stay true to yourself, Severus. Not many people would have stood behind their opinion in your place. I know it must have been difficult..." He stood and walked to the perch where his familiar was resting.

Never turning back to Severus, Dumbledore caressed the Phoenix's bright feathers and then said, "Severus, I won't expel you. I don't think you intended to harm the girl as much as you did. I also think that you acted more on impulse than with any conscious decision. But I have to punish you." He turned to the boy and smiled slightly. "You don't wish me to leave it to Professor Sprout. She is capable of treating people much more harshly than her demeanour would lead one to believe."

The boy gave a hesitant nod, and Dumbeldore's eyes brightened with a twinkle for a fleeting moment. A twinkle that disappeared much too soon. "Well, then –" Dumbledore continued with his speech then, "we have two weeks remaining until the summer holidays, Severus. I propose that we leave your punishment for next year and gain something useful from it, seeing it will be your NEWTs' year. How would you feel about helping Madam Pomfrey once a week until Easter Holiday?" Snape's graduation exams were to be scheduled inearly June of the following year and this timing would provide the boy with enough time for revision.

Snape's eyes were practically hanging on the old man's lips now. "May I help with the brewing?" he inquired, longing for the treat.

"That wouldn't be a punishment for you, I fear, Severus," Dumbledore briefly smiled. "But you may learn – Madam Pomfrey is willing to assist you with the general healing training, if the time allows..."

Snape abruptly nodded. "I shall do it. Twice a week if it means she will have more time for the training then."

Dumbledore shook his head in disbelief. "You are a strange young man, Severus..." he said slowly. "Do you know you may have sentenced yourself to scrubbing bedpans two evenings a week with this single statement of yours?"

The young wizard looked up at him and proudly offered: "Unlike others, I do acknowledge my guilt and I am prepared to pay for what I have done wrong." Then Severus stressed what also Dumbledore had been thinking. "If I knew any healing spells before yesterday, Headmaster, we wouldn't be sitting here right now... I stand by it – twice a week, if I can learn..."

"We have not discussed this possibility with Madam Pomfrey but I won't object, if she approves of it..." Dumbledore said, observing the boy curiously. Too mature for his age, he decided. Why? He started carefully, "Yesterday, you pleaded with me not to inform your mother, my boy. May I ask the reason?"

Severus froze hearing the question. He clearly hadn't been aware of his request. "She..." he stuttered "she... is ill..." Dumbledore looked at him questioningly and Snape unwillingly continued, "Untreated vanishing sickness... when I was about seven... It wasn't curable back then... she claims it still isn't." Suddenly hopeful, the boy gazed at Dumbledore then – as if hoping the old wizard would tell him a miraculous cure had been found recently.

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "You were vaccinated against it after your birth, weren't you?" The illness was highly contagious otherwise. The boy nodded. Dumbledore graced him with a saddened look. "The symptoms are indeed incurable when the malady is not treated within several hours after the first vanishing, Severus... You know, my boy, it happens very seldom these days that somebody would not been treated in time – with all those short disappearances people usually notice that something is wrong… There is no remedy and as much as it pains me..." Snape looked away "...as much as it pains me, my boy, the research stopped after general vaccination started..."

Snape was awfully silent after this statement. Dumbledore regarded him with a deep compassion. "I won't inform Eileen in this case." He assured the boy then, and Severus sighed in relief. "Thank you, Professor," he breathed, got up and clearly wanted to desert the room.

Dumbledore halted him, raising his hand. "Not yet, my boy. If I am not to inform your parents, we will have to discuss in depth not only your punishment but also this dangerous fascination of yours."

Snape sank back in his armchair in a defeated posture. _"You are far too angry, Severus. It's not good for you to employ dark spells, if you nurse such feelings. Remember that the Dark Arts are dangerous, even seductive, if used regularly. Let go of your anger, my boy..."_ He repeated Dumbledore's litany from the previous day, a lecture he received because of his open possession of a book on the theory of the Dark Magic.

"Do you want to add something, Professor?" Snape asked, sounding fatigued with their long argument. "I swear to hold my temper in the future," the boy assured then. "I promise you not to use any of those spells at Hogwarts again. Is it enough for you, Headmaster?"

The kind blue eyes reflected an inner conflict now. The Headmaster knew he could trust Snape's promises after the half a year the boy had kept silent about Lupin's secret. But taking the promise and letting the boy go would be wrong, seeing Snape was currently an entirely too emotional teenager, dangerously fascinated with the Dark Arts; a young man whose few close friends would in all probability join Lord Voldemort's ranks, if they weren't already part of the organization. Additionally, Severus was growing into much too powerful a wizard to let him simply explore the boundaries of his talents and learn from his mistakes…

"No, I fear it won't satisfy me this time, Severus," the old man shook his head finally and with that very sentence and his negative gesture unwillingly frayed anew his freshly repaired relationship with the Slytherin boy.

"The spell you applied so unfortunately yesterday," Dumbledore addressed the boy again. "You claimed to have created it. Is that correct, Severus?"

"Yes," the boy muttered.

Hands folded under his chin, clear blue eyes on the boy, the old wizard almost casually murmured, his eyes unwavering: "The nature of the spell is Dark, my boy. Are you aware of that?"

Snape first gave a hesitant nod, but then shook his head. "I have used the spell other ways," he muttered. "It's not the nature... it's the emotion behind the spell..."

The old wizard held him under a scrutinizing gaze for a while and then nodded: "Yes, I can imagine ways the spell might be applied to Light purposes. But that leaves us with your anger, my boy. I don't think you are currently able to reign it in as easily as you seem to think..."

Snape glared at him, the very emotion Dumbledore was speaking about flashing from his eyes... Finally, the boy spat, "And pray, who is responsible for that?" The young man mastered himself then, swallowed what he wanted to say next, and looked away.

Dumbledore was studying the boy from his seat, his look pensive. "You hold me responsible, my boy?" he demanded quietly after a while. A very hesitant, barely noticeable nod was his only answer. "Why?" the old wizard asked, his eyes still on the boy.

"You have to ask?" the boy's tone was sarcastic.

"The incident with Mr. Black, Potter and Lupin?" Dumbledore opined.

"No!" Snape cried. Then, his voice again lowered, he hissed, "What else, Professor? We used to be enemies before, what do you think would have changed after the Shack? The wonderful quartet almost killing me and you so lenient you didn't punish them at all!"

"You know my reasons, Severus," Dumbledore replied, saddened by the boy's attitude.

"_Oh yes,_ I do. And that changes what?" Snape's tone was bitter now.

The old wizard regarded him, his bespectacled eyes penetrating. "I am not going to expel you either, Severus," Dumbledore reminded the boy, and with that very sentence broke the fragile understanding between them.

Snape glared daggers at him. "And you expect me to thank you for that, right? THANK YOU, then!" his voice was dripping poison. "I call it Sectum Sempra and it's meant for ENEMIES. Do you get it? E-N-E-M-I-E-S, Headmaster!" Snape wanted to hurt and he succeeded.

"Severus!" the Headmaster warned, standing up.

The young man stubbornly continued, "And there is more. I have a book whole of spells like that. My promise was not enough for you, you said? Shouldn't I show you more of the incantations?" The boy knew he was stepping over all the boundaries but he simply didn't care at that point. He got up and turned to the door, attempting to leave the office.

ooooo

The boy had never really seen Dumbledore angry before. The unusual expression startled him when he turned to the old Professor from the locked entrance, aboutto demand the Headmaster unlock the door.

"You are _not_ going anywhere, Mr. Snape!" The familiarity ended here. Dumbledore's eyes were flashing with fury. Suddenly, Severus felt pain over the loss but he was above excusing himself. He remained standing by the door, petrified; only his eyes following Dumbledore's swift movement towards him. When the old wizard stood directly in front of him, Snape dropped his gaze but Dumbledore took the boy's chin and forced Severus to look in his eyes.

"Do you revoke the threat, Severus?" the Headmaster asked, for once sounding deadly serious, his voice severe.

The young man opposite him looked up in the old man's eyes with all his stubbornness, not replying otherwise.

The Headmaster didn't fail to recognize that much of the boy's posture was a simple teenage rebellion and breathed out in relief. "Do you revoke the threat, Severus?" he repeated his question, already less agitated.

The boy still stubbornly wordlessly stared in his eyes. Dumbledore's Legilimency assisted the old wizard in reading Snape's thoughts. _So do it!_ Severus invited. _Do it - I am only a Slytherin after all. Expel me!_

Dumbledore shook his head. "I will not expel you, Severus," he repeated his previous statement, his voice earnest. "But I need your assurance that this is not going to happen again."

Bewildered, Snape looked at him, finally raising his voice, "But you don't want my promise… What do you want, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore smiled at him in his usual friendly matter, clearly grateful for the question. "I want you to understand what exactly are you playing with, my dear boy," he said amiably.

"I know perfectly well what I am playing with," Snape frowned at him. "The Dark Magic is not dangerous per se. Only the intentions make the spells Dark. You can damage a mind with a simple unprofessional Obliviation much faster than with repeated Cruciatus. Can you deny that, Professor?"

"No, Severus." Dumbledore shook his head. "I can't deny it. And I also won't deny what you have on the tip of your tongue now. If you want immediate success and power, then the Dark Magic may indeed provide you with powerful means to reach your goals. But do you know the price for it, my boy? Are you sure you are willing to pay it?" The blue gaze of the old man was holding the boy's eyes, as Dumbledore was trying to look in the very depths of the younger wizard's soul.

"I don't believe the rubbish about seductive power," Severus sneered after a while. "I am cautious enough and simply studying the art can't hurt anybody."

Dumbledore's eyes were sad. _If only there was time and place to let Snape feel the changes the regular usage of the Dark spells usually led to!_ That was how young Dumbledore had once learnt after all. But these were not the peaceful years of the Headmaster's youth, and Severus didn't have anybody to protect him from himself in the meantime…

Dumbledore continued with a deep sigh, saying only, "Are you sure, my boy, that my word wouldn't be enough for you?"

Snape smirked at this. _My word was not enough for you either, Professor!_

The old man wasn't surprised but the unvoiced answer pained him nevertheless. "I see," he murmured, thoughtfully stroking his long, now completely white beard. _What am I to do with you, my boy? _he wondered in his mind. _If only I had reached Nicolas when I was waiting for you to wake up… But when Perenelle said that her husband had locked himself with his newest research and asked not to be disturbed in the next few days - that was not a moment to ask a favour of him. No, he wouldn't have granted it then, I fear… _

_But whom else to trust to teach you while not judging you when we are in the middle of this unfortunate war? Who else would see beyond the front of just another Slytherin tempted by the Dark Arts? Who else may recognize how much you could contribute to__the Light with your power and intelligence? Your great-uncle would be the best choice, were he still alive... He spent far too few years teaching to be remembered by many, but I believe him to belong to the best of our latest Defence Instructors._

_I wish I could offer my assistance in his place, my boy, but I won't be able to spare the time - not until after the holidays and probably longer… But wouldn't it be too late then?_

The old man interrupted his musings here and concentrated again on gently probing the young Slytherin's thoughts. Maybe we could really wait, he let himself hope...

The boy was still facing him with stubbornness written all over his pale face, his eyes never turning from Dumbledore's scrutinizing gaze. The old man sighed when he found in the boy's mind again how little Snape cared about his opinions and the depth of the boy's hatred of the Marauders. _No, I can't allow you to stay at Hogwarts without restrictions, Severus. Not when you grew up to be such a competent wizard… Not when you tend to be this emotional. _

With another sigh, the Headmaster did the only thing that seemed him plausible at the moment, the only thing that could temporarily solve the problem of Severus Snape's matured magical powers and recently dangerously immature behavior…

"I hope you will forgive me, my boy," the Headmaster said softly, his voice apologetic. "I have to ask you for a wand oath that you will never again use any Dark Magic at Hogwarts – unless directly asked."

Dumbledore left himself a back door in case the boy had taught his classmates any of his spells. If the need arose, Snape could show them what they were battling. Additionally, if Severus really intended solely to study the principles of the Dark Arts as he claimed, then the oath wouldn't affect him.

"Give me your wand, Severus," Dumbledore demanded quietly. Severus - hesitantly and slowly - complied with the request. "Good," Dumbledore nodded, hating himself but knowing he had to continue.

Snape's eyes were looking at him accusingly, and the Headmaster quickly understood that the boy thought he had asked him to pledge his magic in total. The older wizard shook his head in an attempt to calm the agitated young man.

"I don't require the full form oath from you, my boy," he explained. "I would never ask anybody for that kind of oath, as I would never ask anyone to swear an Unbreakable Vow to me… You see, my boy, humankind has been blessed with a free will and nobody shall rob you of it." Snape nodded, his face revealing his immense relief.

The older wizard smiled fondly at him,glad he would only be despised and not hated as he had feared. He attempted to further explain his actions to the boy in a hope for more. "It's my belief, Severus, that a man will gain more from a mistake that he has made than from any instructions, however well these may be meant… Nonetheless, while I am willing to grant you the time to obtain the experience by yourself, my boy, I have to ensure that nobody will be harmed when I allow you to collect it while you are still here at school… A simple wand oath will keep you from using your wand against the wording of the oath only, as you are no doubt aware… Do you think you could give me your wand oath, my boy?" The Headmaster held the boy's wand prepared on his left palm now.

Snape looked in the steel blue of Dumbledore's eyes. _Why?_ his mind cried out suddenly, in misery. _Why, Professor? Why do you demand the oath from me while you didn't demand anything at all from Black? _

The Legilimens in Dumbledore saw the questions in the boy's mind and felt badly. But the sincere answer 'You are far more dangerous, Severus,' seemed even worse. "Swear it to me, Severus," he asked in an even kinder tone.

Unwillingly and very slowly, the boy's fingers touched the wand and the young man swore, his voice trembling. Dumbledore sighed with relief when the oath was over. He returned the wand and Snape pocketed it.

ooooo

"I need another promise from you, my boy," the Headmaster said when the boy turned to leave.

Snape scowled immediately, his eyes now revealing a feeling of deep betrayal. Dumbledore shook his head. "A promise only, my boy." Snape stared at him, unconvinced. "You are not going to share the knowledge of Sectum Sempra and any other similarly dangerous spell with any of your classmates. Will you promise me you won't do that?

Snape swallowed. "I promise," he whispered when he was no longer able to stand the sight of his pleading Headmaster.

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said, relieved. "The old man apologizes for being too harsh to you."

Snape gave a barely noticeable nod, his face clouded. I won't get more now, Dumbledore thought. But he felt it was better than nothing. He flicked his wand and Snape heard the door unlock.

"May I go now?" the boy asked, nervous.

"Stop by in the Infirmary, Severus," Dumbledore reminded him. "Miss Jorkins promised not to spread how she was harmed, but she awaits your apologies."

The boy nodded again, his hand now on the door grip.

Dumbledore, however, continued. "Good. Then before you go, one last time, my boy – try to suppress your anger. You are a far too powerful wizard to go on with it. If I may advise you, ask in the Library for a book on preliminary training for Occlumency. Should you not have heard about it, Occlumency is an ancient magical art used for sheltering one's mind against magical penetration, and I trust that you will profit from the initial technique of clearing your mind."

Once again, a nod and eyes directed to the floor was the only response Dumbledore received. Then Snape opened the door and Dumbledore was about to say his goodbye. It occurred to him in that very moment – the book the boy had left somewhere in his bedroom...

"Wait, Severus," he halted the boy anew. Snape paused and looked back at him.

"I would take that book of yours into safekeeping, if I may." It sounded like a polite request, but in truth it was an order.

"No," Snape said resolutely.

"I can't have it lying in a student dorm, Severus," Dumbledore tried to explain.

"No."

"My boy, try to understand me!" the Headmaster insisted. "You will receive it back when you have finished your seventh year..."

"No." Snape firmly stood behind his one word answer.

"Severus!" Dumbledore raised his voice again. Not much, but it sufficed. The boy's eyes refilled with hatred.

"It's a Potions textbook," he tried.

"I am positive that Professor Slughorn would provide you with another copy," Dumbledore offered.

"It is my mother's." The boy was scowling at him now.

"I don't think Eileen would dwell on one particular book, if Professor Slughorn can lend you the same title until you may have her old book back." Dumbledore smiled.

"I DO DWELL ON IT!" Severus snapped at him, annoyed.

"Then you may have had it for too long already," the old wizard said, again thinking of the seductive might of the Dark Arts.

"I won't give it to you!" Severus loudly protested. But despite what his Headmaster thought, the boy didn't long for the Dark Magic now. The only thing he was reminded of whenever he looked at the book, whenever he held it in his hands, was nothing magical – it was his mother, who had owned the book before him and who was slowly dying from a disease no one cared about any more...

ooooo

Dumbledore, in the end ordering Snape to bring the book upstairs, never understood Snape's true motivation. The boy constantly avoided meeting his eyes, and the Headmaster saw no reason to press the issue with Legilimency. After all, the principal argument was over now that he was satisfied the boy no longer constituted a danger to the other students...

Not until later did the old man grasp that his relationship with the boy was possibly damaged beyond repair; the point driven home in the moment Snape returned to his office, thrust the Advanced Potions Making book in his wrinkled hands and, with eyes full of hatred, yelled, "Choke on it! I hate you! Do you hear me? I HATE YOU, DUMBLEDORE!"

It was the first time Dumbledore heard the younger wizard angrily slam the door behind him. Would he have felt better knowing the sound would one day become a part of his daily life? Hard to tell. At that moment the old man knew only that it pained him to lose his close relationship with the boy...

ooooo


	10. The Many Faces of Gratitude

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 10: The Many Faces of Gratitude**

_A/N: __Betaed by cardigrl. Thank you!_

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Entrance Hall_

_Afternoon before Snape's attack on Bertha Jorkins, June, 1977_

"James, I think we found him. Finally," Sirius Black said to his friend, a satisfied smirk on his lips.

James Potter nodded, his eyes never leaving the tall figure clad in usual formal black in the hall below. "Yes, Padfoot, we most certainly have," James quietly confirmed, his eyes lit with mischief. "Let the fun begin!" James whispered excitedly then, motioning at Sirius to follow him downstairs.

By the entrance to the hall, there stood Snape, probably waiting for somebody, his back turned to them. For once, the Slytherin didn't notice the two grinning Marauders until they were right behind him and Sirius Black said a much too amiable, "Hello, Severus."

Snape froze at the tone, and then swiftly turned around prepared to fish for his wand.

Sirius laughed seeing the reaction; shaking hishead, he turned to his best friend. "James, look at him! Do we have wands in hand, Snape? No – right?" Sirius Black turned his hands palms up and then again palms down to show they were indeed empty and lowered them. "We don't want to fight with you today, Snape. You don't have to always think the worst!"

Sirius exchanged a martyred gaze with James and gave a deep theatrical sigh. "Severus, Severus – and herewe thought that a nice one-afternoon truce might do us all some good…" Here, Black's face widened in a predatory smile.

"Precisely my opinion," James Potter nodded to his housemate. Snape gazed at them, suspicion written all over his face.

"What do you want from me, Potter, Black?" he hissed in their direction, a deep frown settling on his face.

"Us?" Sirius asked innocently. "Why should we be wanting anything? No, no. To the contrary – we have something for you, Snape."

Snape scowled. "I don't believe a word."

"But you should, Severus, you should." Sirius smiled patiently. "If only you could know how grateful to you we both feel these days!"

"Very – very grateful, Severus. You have to believe us!" James pleaded with a smirk.

"Oh yes, we definitely are immensely grateful. "Black nodded again and then, spotting his younger brother entering the hall, Sirius added, "But maybe you could ask my dear brother… Regulus will gladly share the details with you." Black's face wore a wide grin when he finished.

The other Gryffindor shook his head in reprimand at this. "No, no, Padfoot, tell Severus yourself! It wouldn't sound the same from dear Regulus, would it?"

Sirius thought about it for a while and then gave a thoughtful nod. "Yes, you are probably right, Prongs. As always, after all," he smiled at James. Then, his face directed back to Snape, the older of the Blacks continued, "In that case, dear Severus" -- Snape scowled at the address and his hand tightened its grip on the wand in his sleeve -- "I shall share with you what has recently happened to me so that you may rejoice in it as we do!"

Sirius's black eyes sparkled with a very mischievous grin. "Let me tell you a fairytale, Severus... Once upon a time there lived a boy whose parents were the biggest pains-in-the-arse in the world but he still had to endure living with them… Day after day, month after month, year after year… until it was really unbearable… Then however another boy accused the first boy of wanting to hurt him – what was never true, trust me! – and some kind person suggested the parents that their son was – shall we put it simply – not worth being part of their respectable _Noble_ and _Most Ancient_ House. After this most fortunate occurrence, the parents suddenly saw the light and didn't want their son anymore…

"Here comes another family to the stage, Severus, with a son of the same age that was worried about the first boy and offered him shelter and care that he gladly accepted…" Sirius smiled at James, now looking genuinely thankful. Potter dismissed this gesture of gratitude with a wave of a hand but returned the smile nevertheless.

Sirius Black continued, "Well, Snape, isn't it a fairytale? Almost like a Cinderella coming to the palace of her dreams, right? And the only person the boy may be grateful to is: you! Aren't you glad, aren't you satisfied with yourself, Severus?" Sirius was desperately trying to keep his face neutral. It proved even harder by the next sentence. "Severus, thank you so very much for delivering me from the prison of my dearest parents' house! I shall be forever indebted to you, Snape, for helping me out of all that unselfishly! That's not often seen these days after all!"

Sirius Black and James Potter finally burst out laughing, seeing the puzzled expression on Snape's face, and then reached for their wands as Snape had already readied his own. Another of the trio's spectacular duels had to wait for another time, however, as Dumbledore unexpectedly stepped into the hall.

Unfortunately for Severus, the Headmaster once again happened to see only the Slytherin with a drawn wand and dark curse on his lips, as the Marauders never managed to pull their wands out before he entered the hall… The old man's warning to Snape about the seductive power of the Dark Arts afterwards was already too much for the boy, and injuring Bertha Jorkins later that day was just the inevitable outcome of an overwhelmingly bad day in the midst of an unusually difficult year on the top of it…

ooooo

_Florean Fortescue's _

_Diagon Alley_

_August, 1977 _

"Hello, Lily," a male voice greeted. The girl looked up from the book in her lap, surprised to hear how adult James Potter suddenly sounded. The boy was clad in the Muggle way; his dark hair messily ruffled as always. Most surprisingly, however, James's face was not at all what Lily had expected – instead of the usual haughty smirk, it was graced with a gentle, shy smile.

"Hello, James," the girl nodded and set the book aside.

Laying a bulky packet on the table, the boy took the chair next to her. "Sorry for the delay, Lily, but the queue by Flourish and Blotts was endless… Did you wait long?"

"A couple of minutes – but don't worry, at least I could finish the chapter." She patted her book and marveled how civilly they were speaking for once. "So -," she started, "it seems that we will be Hogwarts' Head Boy and Girl…"

"So it seems." James gave a nod, sounding cautious.

Lily caught the tone and again got the impression James's selection for the Head Boy post must have had a rather special background. For a while, the girl silently measured her companion and then, curiosity getting the best of her, she quietly said, "One may wonder what has possessed Dumbledore to offer the position to one of the biggest troublemakers in Hogwarts…"

James quirked a nervous smile. "One may, surely…"

"And you won't tell me the reason, will you?" Lily ran a finger over her book.

"I am not sure I know it myself," James sighed, his eyes revealing his genuine confusion.

Lily nodded, keeping silent. Then she, biting her lip, quietly inquired, "Remus is a Werewolf, isn't he?" She thought that that was the reason why the kind boy wasn't asked to take the position instead of the big head in front of her.

James was stunned at first, staring at her in disbelief. The possibility that Lily could have figured Remus's state out by herself had never occurred to him and he immediately blamed Snape; Lily Evans and the blasted Slytherin were after all on surprisingly friendly terms – for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, anyway… Damn the greasy git!

When the young man overcame the first shock, he hatefully hissed through the clenched teeth, "Snivellus, I promise you will pay for this! Dumbledore was a fool trusting you – as if we didn't tell him."

Lily eyed him suspiciously. "What does Severus have to do with this?"

"He told you what Remus was, yes?"

Lily Evans shook her head. "No… No, James, I figured it out myself – look, Remus disappears much too regularly for me not to notice…"

James sighed in relief. The girl looked at him, suddenly frightened. Her voice shaking, she asked, "He hasn't bitten Severus, has he?" When the boy failed to answer, Lily cried, "JAMES! Answer me!"

"No, no… Sirius…, he…," James wanted to explain to calm her down, but stopped himself in time. "No one was bitten, Lily," he stated, his tone pleading, as if asking her not to question him any further.

But Lily was clever enough to read between the lines and needn't to ask any more. "Oh dear," she whispered, finally understanding the huge puzzle that was last year. Suddenly, the pieces fit together: Severus's rambling about the injustice towards Slytherins, James's occasional guilty glances at Dumbledore, Sirius's smirks and sly asides that always left Severus boiling in rage… "Oh dear," she repeated and sighed.

When she looked up, her features were softened. "You may have saved his life, James… Sirius played a prank on him, didn't he? And you saved his life," she said again, her eyes unusually bright. Quietly, she added, "Although you hate him – don't like him – whatever…" Lily smiled, gratitude overcoming her and she leaned over to him and kissed his cheek. When he blushed, she openly laughed. "I think I may have misjudged you after all, James Potter. If this is true, you have earned the badge Dumbledore gave you."

He smiled at her shyly, thankful for having a chance to start with her anew. Two weeks later, James Potter and Lily Evans returned to Hogwarts already a couple, much to the surprise of both their teachers and their classmates. Snape's reaction was predictable but pained Lily nevertheless. For the next half a year, the Slytherin boy successfully hid in either the Slytherin dorms or Madam Pomfrey's hospital wing. Lily never really spoke to him again until the spring of 1978, and even then he was still reserved towards her… As they finally hesitantly renewed their friendship in the last weeks before their graduation, Lily swore to herself never to reveal to Severus why she really changed her opinion of James – for that she valued their friendship far too much…

ooooo

_Hogwarts_

_The area of the castle gate_

_June, 1981_

The cool air of the night smelled fresh after the rain shower that finally washed down the spring dust and Dumbledore couldn't help but smile. He loved this smell as much as he enjoyed the season. Just for a short while he let himself forget about the war running on behind the safe walls of his castle and the young man he waited for...

Abruptly, a quiet pop interrupted his musings about the season and the old wizard quickly looked up to see the black clad figure that appeared with a swirl of robes right behind the gate. Dumbledore's eyes scanned Snape's body. His new Professor seemed to be unharmed and the Headmaster smiled in relief.

Then the younger man stumbled approaching the gate, and Dumbledore hastily stood next to the boy, offering him a hand to steady him. The boy automatically sneered at him, then looked up and his dark eyes flickered in recognition. "You shouldn't have waited, Professor. It was completely unnecessary," the young man said and straightened his robes. Inwardly, however, he was grateful that Dumbledore cared.

The Headmaster nodded. "I didn't have to," he agreed. "But I still would have worried… Come, Severus, I think that we both have earned a nice cup of tea." With this, the Headmaster turned and started up the way to the castle.

Snape shook his head. _Tea? As if he would be in any mood for tea..._ Then, however, his face revealed a careful, small smile. It was nice to have someone who gave a damn about what happened to him. For Dumbledore, no matter where he waited for him, never asked first about what Severus had to report. His first concern was for Snape's safety and well-being, and that knowledge warmed the boy's hollow heart.

As he made on his way behind the Headmaster, Severus mused how very different his life might have been, had he reconciled with the old man back before he left Hogwarts. Although, maybe, it wouldn't have been that much dissimilar after all…

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Great Hall_

_June, 1978 _

After the short two years of Ravenclaw's domination, the Great Hall was again decorated in a blinding flood of gold and scarlet of Gryffindor for the Leaving Feast of the graduation year 1977/78. Minerva McGonagall smiled proudly from the head table at her students, her attention dedicated to the leaving seventh years.

As it is often the case, the Transfiguration professor had a soft spot for the biggest troublemakers under her care – currently the quartet united under James Potter and Sirius Black. In this regard, McGonagall was very similar to Dumbledore. The Headmaster had, however, taken a liking in that group of seventh years not only to the said group of Minerva's Gryffindors, but also to the dark Slytherin boy carrying the name of Severus Snape.

McGonagall was vaguely aware that the Slytherin's grandfather and Dumbledore used to be friends. The Deputy Headmistress also understood that the boy was unusually bright; for even she – strongly prejudiced against all who allowed themselves to fight the members of her House – recognized him for his knowledge. What she nonetheless couldn't comprehend was how Dumbledore could still treat Snape as one of his favourites when the boy had in the past two years become so disrespectful towards him. Had the Slytherin behaved like that to any other Professor, by now he probably would have already been expelled. But no, Dumbledore had let the boy do whatever pleased him without so much as a stern reprimand. McGonagall sighed. I wonder how we will keep the other children in line, Albus, if you let them see all this...

The five students McGonagall mused about were all present for the feast – as were the other seventh years clad in their best robes. The Marauder four regarded the Hall with satisfied smirks while Snape was – clearly annoyed – scowling at the table of the School Cup's winners. The Gryffindor colours hanging all around reminded the boy yet again of the exalted position of that House's graduates in contrast to Slytherin.

Thinking of this, Snape felt reassured that he had already received the confirmation of his St. Mungo's apprenticeship. The boy smirked inwardly when he recalled all the occasions when Dumbledore or Slughorn had tried to prescribe his future. He felt certain that he was much better off with his own choices – even if he still needed to find a source to finance his further studies.

_You won't be able to study longer than half a year, Severus, if nothing changes_, a treacherous small voice said deep in Snape's head. Severus shuddered hearing it. _If only nothing changes!_ he wished with his whole heart, dreading that his mother's condition would continue to worsen. It already required more medical attention – and more money – than ever.

At the head table, Dumbledore rose at that moment, interrupting Severus's contemplation and his own discussion with Filius Flitwick. The Headmaster's kind blue eyes rested on the students assembled at the Gryffindor table for a moment, and Dumbledore smiled. Then, the old man's sight swept briefly over all the House tables.

"Yet another year over," he started merrily when his inspection was over, his arms opening widein a gesture of a giant hug. "Plenty of knowledge you have gained - plenty of knowledge you may now forget over the holidays... I shall only hope that you won't let your minds turn completely blank so that your Professors have to start treating you like newly arrived first years again when these two joyful months are over." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in mischief.

The old wizard moved on the evaluation of the Houses' successes then: "Congratulations go to Gryffindor for winning the annual School Cup – 525 points, well done, Gryffindor, indeed! – as well as to Hufflepuff for excelling at this year's Quidditch Cup. Mr. Richardson, I shall never forget your final dive for the Snitch that ensured your team's victory!

Now that you are leaving us, I may also share this with you -," Dumbledore lowered his voice and the hall hung on his words, "our highly-estimated Mediwitch marveled over the fact that you were still alive, Mr. Richardson! Speaking of whom -" Dumbeldore again raised his voice, "Madam Pomfrey couldn't make it here tonight – and apologizes to all of you... Now, I had to swear to her that you won't ever practice anything similar in front of her eyes again, Mr. Richardson. Do I have your promise that you will at least try? I would hate to see our Mediwitch that green ever again." Dumbledore winked conspiratorially at the young Hufflepuff and the Great Hall rang with laughter when the boy quickly nodded. The old wizard widely smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Richardson. I assure you that our Mediwitch never visits Quidditch stadiums outside of Hogwarts – so your joining any of the teams shall not be endangered with this promise of yours…"

Then Dumbledore started again, now earnest, "Yet another year over and yet again agroup of seventh years leaving us for good!" He let his eyes wander over the faculty tables. "I am sure that it has been very taxing seven years for all of you. I nevertheless hope that you have enjoyed them and will keep Hogwarts in your memories. I trust that I am speaking for all here when I say that we will miss you! … Seldom we have had a year of such brilliant scholars as some of you have been – and only occasionally do we have the chance to meet with such inventive mischief-makers as several of you no doubt were!" Dumbledore twinkled at the Marauders, briefly held Lily in his gaze and then rested his eyes on Snape.

Severus stared back with the rebellious glare that Dumbledore now knew all too well. The old wizard regretted with his whole heart that he hadn't managed to reconcile with the boy. Primarily for this young man's sake, the Headmaster added, "We happen to live in difficult times. Please, remember that Hogwarts will always welcome its past students and that – if needed – help may be given to you here… Oh, and before any one of you asks," now the Headmaster's tone was again underlined with an inward smile, "shall you ever consider a teaching career, don't hesitate to apply – just remember that an Outstanding in your NEWTs will be a necessary requirement… And now this old man shall not bore you any longer – GOOD LUCK and TUCK IN!"

ooooo

Two hours later, Dumbledore said his personal farewells to the seventh years. As tradition bid, he shook hands with the members of all the Houses; not even one particular sulking young Slytherin could avoid exchanging those last – for once necessarily very civil – words with the old wizard.

Dumbledore sadly smiled at Severus when they finally stood opposite each other and offered the boy his hand. Their gazes met and unexpectedly, Severus heard in his mind Dumbledore's voice saying: _I meant what I said in the Hall, Severus. You will be always welcomed in Hogwarts. Please, keep it in mind! _Snape looked at the man with wide eyes. _You are using Legilimency! _he accused, sounding more surprised than offended. _We both know that you would not have let me tell you these words otherwise, my boy_, Dumbledore excused himself. _But I am sorry that you feel I violated you. Remember what I said!_

The Headmaster kept holding the young man's hand until Severus reluctantly nodded. Dumbledore gave him another smile then and released him. "I shall wish you good luck in whatever you have decided to do in your future life, Severus. Good-bye." Snape forced a muttered "Good-bye" in answer.

Dumbledore was right – Severus hadn't spoken to him since shortly after the Easter holidays when the old man released Severus from his Infirmary detentions to provide the boy with additional revision time for the upcoming NEWTs. Snape was grateful to the old man for leaving him on his own in the weeks to follow. With the Marauders busy and Dumbledore not hovering over him, Severus managed to reign in his temper and finally reconcile with Lily. It still hurt to think of her as James Potter's girlfriend, but it was Severus, after all, who had first opined that they would better stay just friends.

In the young man's bedside-table there lay a letter that also could have brought about his reconciliation with the old Headmaster, had he wished... were he still not angry with the old wizard...

Dumbledore wrote:

_Severus, _

_Please, stop by in my office on Tuesday or Thursday evening the week following your last examinations. The book you left in my safekeeping will be returned to you then. Professor Slughorn will inform you of the new password. _

_Kind regards and good luck in your NEWTs,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

While Severus didn't react to the missive, he also didn't throw it away as was his first impulse. For some foolish and sentimental reason he couldn't comprehend himself, the boy decided to keep the letter.

Inthe spring of 1981, when he was despairing, Snape was immensely grateful to have kept the thing. This proof of Dumbledore's past good will towards him gave Severus hope that the Headmaster would not turn him down even now. The tiny piece of paper gave him hope that everything might still turn right. Finally and above all, the letter also gave the boy strength to return to his old school... to beg... to plead ... to ask for help... for assistance... for understanding... and for forgiveness.

ooooo

_Spinner's End _

_April, 1981_

Severus sighed with relief when Dumbledore finally Owled back. The Headmaster had explained to him that Hogwarts didn't employ teachers under 25 years of age when he first applied for the Defence post. Back then, Severus hastened to Hogwarts, wanting to speak with the old man rather then to read any – however kindly formulated – words the old man might have written him. It was how Severus ended up in that one particular corridor in Hog's Head – a decision he deeply regretted now.

In the spring of1981, the Slytherin was still not old enough to gain any teaching position at the school - but try to explain something like that to the Dark Lord! Similarly, Severus unfortunately lacked the Mastery in Defence that would substitute for the asked sevenyears of experience. The only things he could offer were his Outstanding NEWTs and incomplete mastery course in Potions.

Snape hadn't allowed himself to mention this failure of his in front of the Dark Lord. Thankfully, his Occlumency shields hadn't betrayed him, and Snape somehow managed not to have to explain – not to Voldemort himself, nor to Lucius. Similarly, the young man had decided not to include information about his unfinished studies in the curriculum vitae sent to Dumbledore. If time allowed, he planned to complete his mastery, but for now he had to deal with the more pressing problems, such as helping Lily... her son... her family... Potter, he shuddered with disgust… and the Longbottoms.

Aware of the rules now, Snape had decided to be as honest as only possible when writing to Hogwarts. He had applied for the position, explained why he wanted to teach and then added a sentence that had probably earned him the invitation for the interview:

_Headmaster, I have to speak with you in a matter of utter importance in any case. Private meeting would be most appreciated, should the interview not be granted. _

The statement didn't include any information Severus might regret having included should the letter be intercepted. Equally circumspect was the answer he received. The discreet reply was, however, welcomed with the deepest gratitude by the young man, for it granted him safe entry to Hogwarts and the desired meeting with Dumbledore... The first part of the letter was the official, awaited rejection:

_Dear Mr. Snape, _

_We were pleased to receive your application for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Sadly, we have to remind you that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry does not employ teachers under 25 years of age. We encourage you to apply again when you fulfill this requirement. _

Then came however Dumbledore's personal part:

_But, Severus, should you wish to discuss any other matter, I will be more than pleased to see you in my office on Saturday evening. Show this letter to my gargoyle, it will suffice for__the password. Let me also inform you that our wards were increased. Should you encounter any problems, please Owl me from Hogsmeade Owl station. _

_With kind regards, _

_Albus Dumbledore_

Severus absentmindedly ran his finger over the signature. If he weren't mistaken, this letter meant hissalvation.And Lily's... and that drooling son's of hers. The young man's eyes filled with moisture he didn't care to wipe off.

ooooo

_A/N: Review? Please! (-: _


	11. Welcoming the Prodigal Part 1

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 11: Welcoming the Prodigal – Part 1**

  
_A/N: Betaed by cardigrl. Thank you!_

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Corridor in front of the Potions Classroom_

_September, 1976_

Potions – Snape had always loved the class, even with Slughorn teaching it. He supposed that was partly because of Lily, who enjoyed the subject as much as he did and with whom he was – unbelievable as it might sound given they were a Gryffindor and a Slytherin – genuine friends. Well, at least they once used to be... Now, though, Severus had the best of reasons to dread the class – because of Lily Evans once again.

Potions was to be their first class together after that unfortunate incident during the OWLs; the first meeting he couldn't very well avoid after the afternoon he had called her a filthy little Mudblood and she had told him that he ought to wash his pants. 

_Was one summer enough to forgive and forget?_ Severus pondered, nervously pacing the empty dungeon corridor in front of the classroom. His answer was negative. _No, not even close! One can't forgive and forget such humiliation... But then, Lily was never part of the Marauders' prank. She… she wanted_ – he hated it! - _to help him. Nothing more and nothing less – something friends should do for each other... And he called her that name..._ Snape bit his lip – again wondering if he was able to swallow his pride and apologize.

He didn't think he was up to it. And then, suddenly, Lily arrived, still much sooner than the others, and they shared the silent corridor as they had done many times in the past. He remembered her speaking to him in the same place for the first time after their Sorting and shuddered over the loss. With a careful side glance, Severus saw that the girl's face was showing similar emotional turmoil – but still, both of them continued to avoid the eyes of the other until the rest of the NEWT students arrived and Slughorn invited the class inside.

Solely out of habit, they each took their accustomed seats in the first row and let Slughorn babble enthusiastically about their Outstanding performances in the OWLs. In any other situation, they would probably be glancing at each other right now with slightly ironic smiles. But that unconditional understanding was now sadly over.

Sharing one workbench probably wouldn't have helped to settle their argument – if Lily hadn't been entirely too nervous in unpacking her books and Potions set. As the vials fell from her suddenly clumsy fingers and threatened to shatter in a thousand little pieces on the floor, Severus – purely out of instinct – stretched out his hand and caught the set. Handing it back to Lily, their gazes met for the first time since that unfortunate summer day, and they both saw the other's embarrassment and nervousness. "Thank you," came from Lily and "I am sorry," from the boy in the same moment. At this, Lily chuckled, happy sparkles glittering in her kind green eyes. Severus felt the corners of his lips turn up at the sight. "Friends?" Lily whispered and he nodded, both grateful and ashamed, reaching for his own Advanced Potions Making text...

ooooo

_Little Hangleton_

_The night of the Dark Lord's return_

_June, 1995 _

When a quiet pop announced the arrival of a newcomer and a dark-haired man appeared in the swirl of the accustomed black robes, Lucius Malfoy silently swore. _Damn you, Severus!_ he thought. _You Gryffindor idiot! Whatpossessed you to come here now? Can't you give Him at least__a few days to recall that you are more – much more - than just a Dumbledore protégé?_

Lord Voldemort had been resurrected for only a few short hours, but he had already managed to restore fearful respect in his followers. When the dark wizard announced that there would be men killed from their midst earlier that evening, Lucius tried not to think of Snape. _Severus had become much too close to the old Hogwarts' Headmaster in recent years even for his liking. Surely, the Dark Lord would take it even more seriously… And Severus must have known this much!_

_Not that Igor wouldn't be an even bigger idiot – priding himself in the safety of Durmstrang's walls when everyone knew that the magical schools were as much dependent on the strength of their heads as their Headmasters and Headmistresses were able to lean on their power… The Dark Lord would surely kill him without a thought just for__that impertinence!_ Lucius shuddered inwardly, recalling the burnt corpse of Narcissa's cousin, and feeling the ache of tonight's punishment in his own body…

The Dark Lord rose behind Lucius's back at the sight of the newcomer, his lips twisted in a dangerous smile. "The prodigal son… how unexpected," he whispered with clear interest and moved towards the young Professor.

Snape felt to his knees. "My Lord," he spoke to the ground. "Forgive me for being late…"

"I am not interested in your reasons!" The Dark Lord's voice hurt like a blow of a whip. The dark wizard drew his wand. "Nor I am interested in how you want to justify all the years you spent as Dumbledore's lapdog, Snape! Didn't you think I would remember that it was you who saved the Potter boy?" Voldemort hissed, his menacing figure looming over Snape.

Severus felt as if his heart had stopped. _So this is the end_, he thought bitterly. _Someone saw what happened in Godric's Hollow that night…But had he ever been ashamed of what he did there? Most certainly not_, Snape answered himself. _At least in retrieving the boy from the house, he fulfilled – entirely too insufficiently – his obligation and promise to Lily..._

Severus decided that he didn't want to die like a coward now – not when he hadn't betrayed himself in the past decade. Slowly, he willed the tension in his body to disappear and looked up, his Occlumency shields thankfully still firmly in place. His voice proud, the young man answered clearly, "No, my Lord. I knew you would remember."

"And that I do, my unloyal servant, that I do…" the older wizard's voice was cold. "But I wonder, Severus, why are you here tonight if you knew… Shall we find out?" Voldemort asked in a low voice, raised his wand, and exclaimed, "Crucio!"

Snape desperately tried to remain quiet while his body uncontrollably whimpered and twitched on the ground, but at last, he couldn't keep his teeth clenched together for any longer. He let out a painful cry, one that couldn't have left anyone doubting about the agony he suffered. A twisted, deeply satisfied smile appeared on Voldemort's face at the sound; the assembled Death Eaters, however, followed the happenings rather impassively, probably only too grateful that their own punishment was over for now…

The Dark Lord held Snape under the spell a long time – too long for there not to have been damage. When, finally, Voldemort wordlessly lowered the wand and with a quiet sweep of his expensive silk robes returned to his seat, Lucius inwardly sighed in relief. _For the Dark Lord, this was still a lesser punishment – one that damaged but did not destroy...Snape__might__still survive this._

Maintaining his silence, the Dark Lord lowered himself on his throne-like chair, his red eyes fixed on his spy. The Death Eaters stood unmoving in the circle around him, presenting a strange ensemble of black clad figurines; Snape was prostrate in their middle, his breathing heavy, blood freely running down his face and neck from where he bit through his lip. Severus knew what was expected from him now – but it took some time to catch his breath enough to manage it.

Thankfully, the Dark Lord decided to be patient for once. Severus knew to appreciate the fact. When he finally managed to breath the required "Thank you, my Lord," it actually sounded genuinely grateful. Severus fainted only a few seconds later – hoping against all odds that he would be allowed to live...

ooooo

When Snape regained consciousness some time later, they were alone. He, lying in a puddle of his blood and other bodily fluids he didn't care to identify, and Voldemort, sitting on his high chair, his long fingers playing with the returned wand. "Awake again, Severus?" the Dark Lord asked quietly. "I know that you are sane so you may as well answer me!"

The Professor couldn't react vocally right then but his face still revealed much more than he was accustomed to… Voldemort smiled at the incredulous expression on his spy's face. _So, you expected to be insane or dead by now, Severus_, he smirked. Aloud, however, he stated only a calm, "I have better uses for you, Severus, than to let you rot in St. Mungo's. Even disloyal, you have your value for me…

But then, we never resolved this, did we, Severus?" The wizard once again raised his wand and Snape unwillingly shuddered. The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed into two red glinting slits and his gaze bored into Snape's. "So, Severus, how is it - are you loyal to me or to the old fool? Show me!" he commanded and flicked his wand. "Legilimens!"

The memories of the past fifteen years were running through the former Death Eater's head, but the Dark Lord did not realize they were in the order Dumbledore and Snape thought best for the occasion. Unexpectedly, Voldemort never reached for the memory of Godric's Hollow on that unfortunate Halloween's night fourteen years ago; instead, he concentrated on Potter's first year in Hogwarts. "Why did you protect the boy?" Voldemort hissed in Snape's head, and Severus finally understood what he had been asked about before.

"My Lord, I assume you are speaking about the brat's first year in Hogwarts?" he asked quietly when the connection broke and he finally recovered his equilibrium as he managed to remain standing – even if only on very shaky legs. "Dumbledore told me later you were there with Quirrell... I regret you never revealed yourself to me. I might have assisted you, my Lord." Snape bowed his head, a pained expression on his face.

"And could I have trusted you, Severus?" Voldemort inquired and his eyes narrowed again. "Or would you have run to Dumbeldore?"

Severus looked up, suddenly grateful for the arguments he had had with Dumbledore back in that year. Projecting the memory of them on the front of his mind, he answered without even a slight hesitation. "You were present at all my encounters with Quirrell, my Lord. You surely know that I never reported him to Dumbledore until the very end. I was... hopeful... that he was working for you... in the beginning, at least... But – forgive me, my Lord," Snape cast his eyes down again, "Quirrell was too incompetent to succeed on his own... and I, unfortunately, formed the impression that he was interested only in his personal gain..."

Now, Severus completely bowed his head and only very quietly admitted, "I am deeply ashamed of the fact, my Lord, but my main interest at that time was to remain in Dumbledore's good graces. I... I ask you for your forgiveness, my Lord. I believed you dead." Severus swallowed and awaited the blow. The Dark Lord must have known what they all – except Bellatrix, maybe – had thought, but Snape was probably the first one to voice it in front of the man... and now rightfully expected to be the first one to be punished as well.

When he was spared another round of Cruciatus, Severus – immensely surprised – carefully looked up. He saw that Voldemort observed him with open curiosity. "My Lord?" Snape asked.

"I see you have decided to be most frank with me this evening, Severus," the Dark Lord quietly said in reply. 

Snape wasn't sure if the statement was meant to be positive or negative, as his one-time master's voice was emotionless. He resolved therefore to give a simple nod of obedience. "My Lord."

Voldemort surveyed him thoughtfully. "You have always been clever, Severus," the Dark Lord said after a while, a dangerous smile playing on his thin lips. "Much too clever for your own good. But I always knew to appreciate your value. Tell me now – has the old fool ever really recognized your talents?" Voldemort smirked. "You are still teaching Potions, Severus, aren't you? If he really trusted you, wouldn't he give you your real heart's desire? "

Snape's expression clouded. "He claims to trust me..." he mumbled, doubt creeping into his voice, "but he says that he would be unhappy if my devotion to the Dark Arts," Snape let his past passion be heard in his voice, " would bring on a relapse..."

"He does, doesn't he?" Voldemort darkly chuckled. "And still you are here tonight to prove him wrong..." Snape could detect a hint of curiosity in the voice. _Shall he tell the truth now?_the Professor wondered, and resolved that it might be the best course of action. Too many lies – even if supported by the strongest Occlumency – were after all only too difficult to keep. 

"I am here on his bidding now, my Lord," Snape admitted, his eyes directed to Voldemort's evil red gaze and a light smirk played on his lips. "I trusted that you would value my undisturbed contact with him. Should you be so inclined, Dumbeldore trusts me his now more than he ever did before; he has already asked me to spy on you for his Order. Sadly, he doesn't see that I am more interested in spying on the Order and him for you, my Lord." Snape bent his neck, finding in the depths of his mind the long past devotion to their cause and the dark man in front of him. With them in the front of his mind, he sounded most sincere.

Voldemort observed him without a word. Snape held his breath – the end of their conversation was drawing close, he was sure. But he knew also that the questioning was not yet over...

"What will you do if I commanded you to bring me Potter?" Voldemort indeed inquired just a moment later.

And here it comes, Snape thought. "Nothing," he dared, "if you still wanted me to keep my position in Hogwarts. Everything necessary, should you wish otherwise, my Lord." Snape looked at the man in front of him and again lowered his head in a gesture of servitude.

For a while, it was completely silent. Then, however, Voldemort burst into unpleasant laughter. "You have grown reckless, Severus," Voldemort commented, his voice strangely amused. "I wonder how Dumbledore holds with this temper of yours."

"He burdens me with the care of that insufferable brat." Snape grimaced. "Hoping in vain that I will turn a dedicated caretaker."

"That sounds very much like him." The Dark Lord nodded, lips thinned in an ugly smile. "Then I entrust you with care of the boy for me as well, Professor Snape. I promise that I won't be displeased, should the boy happen into something unpleasant..." Voldemort laughed again. "But you shall first ensure that the old fool doesn't realize anything… I indeed do appreciate your closeness to him. Very clever, Severus, waiting on his bidding to come here tonight – very clever." The dark man held his servant with an appreciative gaze. _You have grown up, Snape_, he thought.

"Come, Severus," Voldemort gestured at the younger man then, "we need to return to the rest. The night is growing short and there is still much that needs to be dealt with..."

Snape nodded with a hint of gratitude and limped behind him.

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster's Office_

_April, 1981 _

When the dark silhouette in the far distance finally stopped hesitantly lingering around the gate leading to Hogwarts' grounds and the figure stepped on the school's property, Albus Dumbledore sighed in relief. The long minutes he had spent watching his visitor's indecision had worried him. Now, however, when the young man had safely passed the gate specially enchanted for the occasion, Dumbledore nodded, satisfied, and turned from the window back to his desk.

"So, Severus, you mean no harm to Hogwarts. The wards wouldn't let you in, if you did," the old wizard mumbled while seating himself behind his enormous table that was, as ever, overloaded with paperwork.

Absentmindedly, the old man reached for the boy's letter. Holding it, the old man tapped his bearded chin and again voiced his thoughts: "A matter of utter importance you need my help with, you say, Severus… Now, my boy, you will have to be more forthcoming if you indeed look for my assistance…"

"Precisely my words, Dumbledore." Phineas Nigellus Black quietly smirked from his frame. "The ungrateful brats always think that we have nothing else to worry about than their pitiful arses!"

Armando Dippet and a few others of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses, who were still awake, admonished the Slytherin's language with sounds of disagreement. "Phineas!" Professor Dippet in particular called at his predecessor in reprimand, his old, wrinkled face showing a deep disappointment. "Those brats you speak about – an ugly word, really – are children under our care whom we are sworn to protect! Do you not remember your vow to guide them through the difficult years of their growing-up and acquiring magical education? We are supposed to help them, Phineas, not to do the opposite – even if it may be too late sometimes…" his voice grew sad at the thought of Tom Riddle and faded off.

"Thank you, Armando," one of the stern looking witches with old-fashioned spectacles nodded in agreement, taking up the debate. "There are not many things Phineas wouldn't remember clearly from either his life or the years his portrait spent hanging here and listening in to the conversation had in this room. You don't have to remind him of his vows. On the other hand, Dumbledore," she turned her eyes to the present owner of the Headmaster's suite, "the majority of us doesn't agree with your decision to give this boy another chance. You explained to him often enough what the dangers of the Dark magic were."

The witch looked at her painted colleagues for confirmation and received agreeable nods from all the sides. Some, among them Professor Dippet, opted to retain a neutral, if concerned, expression. Only Dilys Derwent unmistakably shook her head in disagreement.

"Do you want to add something, Dilys?" asked the other witch asked, sounding offended. She continued, her expression becoming even more severe. "Might we inquire as to why you think the boy Dumbledore here caught spying on him only several months ago more redeemable than the rest of us do?"

The old mediwitch smiled sadly. "Like in illness, also in life, it is never too late to hope. I have seen many miracles during my years in St. Mungo's and I refuse to decline a helping hand to a misguided boy who obviously happened to have a difficult life… Also, I have seen this boy often enough in St. Mungo's in recent years to know he was not an uncaring person. And, my dear, who of the most gifted wizards didn't fancy the Dark Arts at some point of their lives?" She pointedly looked at Dumbledore. "The biggest strength of a wizard doesn't lie in his power – no, the biggest strength is that we find it in ourselves to fight the temptation and turn away from the easier, yet dangerous ways. I, for myself, completely agree with Albus that people should be given another chance."

Fawkes squeaked his support to Dilys Derwent's statement from his perch in the back of the room and turned his magnificent head to his master. Dumbledore set Snape's letter aside and beamed at the old Headmistress. "Thank you, Dilys and you all, for your opinions." Dumbledore let his eyes wander over the painted faces of his predecessors. The majority of them pretended to be (or genuinely were) asleep by now. Dilys was kindly smiling at him, while Phineas wore his usual smirk and Dippet had a genuinely worried expression.

Dumbledore gave all of them another grateful nod for their comments; then the old man's eyes left the portraits and rested on the Phoenix. Fawkes inclined his head to the side, his black coral eyes curiously peering at his master as if the Phoenix would ask a question.

Albus Dumbledore had probably understood the gesture, as he stood and approached the bird's perch. There, the Headmaster raised one hand to caress the Phoenix's rich plumage and quietly said, "Yes, I can't deny that I am hopeful, Fawkes. But I am also much too aware that I may be hoping in vain. I promise you that I won't keep my hopes high… I saw the boy last year myself after all, and I fear that there is no doubt on whose bidding he was in Hogsmeade." The old man sighed.

ooooo


	12. Welcoming the Prodigal Part 2

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 12: Welcoming the Prodigal – Part 2**

_Betaed by cardigrl. Thank you!_

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster's Office_

_April, 1981_

It would be an understatement to say that Snape was nervous the evening he was scheduled to visit Dumbledore. It was one thing to realize that he would have to ask the mighty wizard for help. It was yet another thing to feel grateful towards the old man the moment his invitation to Hogwarts came. In times like that, one easily forgot past wrongs. But such moments never lasted. What Snape felt now was almost panic – the accidental meeting in the Hog's Head a year ago had in no way helped to improve his strange relationship with the old man. Still, Severus never expected to be so nervous at the prospect of meeting the ancient Headmaster again...

He didn't dare drink, nor take any calming potion, during the long day he spent waiting for the encounter that was to bring either his damnation or salvation. He spent the morning brewing and the afternoon doubting his decision. But he knew that there was no other option for him, and he made his way to Hogwarts as the hour approached.

The resolve left him soon after he had departed Spinner's End. At Hogwarts' gate, Severus was again drowning in uncertainty. It took many long minutes before he composed himself enough to step foot on Hogwarts' grounds. That was also how Dumbledore first saw him that evening – pacing by the gate, unsure and hesitant. While the Headmaster calmed when the boy finally stepped onto the school's grounds, Snape had to repeatedly force himself not to turn around and seek consolation and oblivion in a glass of Firewhiskey or the Muggle spirits his father favoured.

At last, Snape stood in front of the gargoyle. Taking a couple of deep breaths, the young man took out Dumbledore's letter and, showing it to the guard carved of stone, commanded, "Let me in. I am expected." The spiral staircase deposited him before the study door, which Severus swiftly approached before he could change his mind. He raised a hand and knocked, immediately receiving the kind answer he had both dreaded and hoped for.

"Come in!" Dumbledore's voice invited from beyond the door and Snape hesitantly entered. The old man looked up at him, smiled and most casually – as if Snape were just an old friend stopping by or a frequent and most welcome visitor to these chambers – said, "Ah, there you are. Good evening, Severus."

Startled by the kind words, Severus gave a nod and managed a single, "Headmaster."

Dumbledore walked over to him then, offering his hand. "It has been a long time, my boy," the older wizard said, his eyes carefully studying the boy.

Severus blinked, surprised by the implicit question; then he nodded in answer. "It has," he agreed.

"I was very sad to hear your mother died," Dumbledore said quietly then and observed the boy's face. It darkened, but the statement was again answered with a nod.

"Thank you," the boy said in a whisper, his eyes cast down.

Dumbledore motioned to his table and the empty chair in front of it. "Please, sit. May I offer you a cup of tea?"

Snape shook his head, longing to finish this meeting as quickly as possible.

Dumbledore fetched a cup of tea for himself, and then took the seat opposite Severus and stirred his steaming beverage. He didn't attempt to start the conversation, leaving this doubtful honor to Severus.

After a period of uncomfortable silence, Snape began to regret his decision not to accept the tea. If he had done,now he would at least have something to keep his hands busy. Gradually growing ever morenervous, the young man finally started to speak, his voice calm only with great effort. "I have made a mistake, Professor… a grave mistake," he admitted quietly, eyes cast down.

The nervous voice died down and Dumbledore nodded at the young man to encourage him to continue. Severus bit his lip. No, he didn't want to go on. But there was no choice. Either he would swallow his pride, or he would eventually kill Lily as well as himself. And at that, he forced himself not to think of those others whose lives might soon hang on his conscience. He looked up again and said those dreaded words, "I... I need your help, Headmaster."

Dumbledore gave a small nod. "And it shall be granted to you, my boy, if it is what you really seek," he said. _But first I need to know if you are still on the same side as you were back then in the Hog's Head, _the Headmaster thought, now looking straight into Snape's eyes. He hoped to read Snape's thoughts in the boy's closed expression but at the end, he was the one who was caught unguarded.

A bit hesitantly, Snape answered the old wizard's unvoiced question. "Much has changed since then, Professor," he said quietly.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered with swiftly suppressed surprise. "I see." He nodded. "Although, one cannot wonder that one of the most brilliant students he has ever had mastered Occlumency and Legilimency in the meantime."

"I wanted you to know before we start to discuss anything else," Snape said quietly, as shame flickered in his eyes.

"And I appreciate it." Dumbledore smiled for the first time since the boy had taken the seat opposite to him. His eyes never leaving the boy's face, the old mancontinued, "Who taught you, Severus?"

It was Snape's turn to look startled.

Dumbledore clearly sensed his uneasiness. "I shall help you, Severus," he assured. "But you will have to be most forthcoming with me. Who taught you?"

Snape turned his gaze away in disgust with himself. Now, then. He wondered if Dumbledore would still be so willing to help him after he knew what he had done. The boy rolled up his left sleeve and ran a finger over his seemingly unblemished skin. "You can't see it now," he said incoherently. "No, you can't," he confirmed and looked back at the Headmaster. "But it's there, burnt to my skin… and... my... my soul… I delivered the Prophecy to Him and He taught me, Professor... The Dark Lord did… Lord Voldemort." As his voice fell to a whisper towards the end, Snape appeared to be in a fever.

At the sound of the dreaded name, an ugly tattoo of skull and serpent became visible and Snape uncomfortably stretched his arm towards the old man. "The Dark Mark, Headmaster," he said simply and they both sat in silence until the black faded. "I am marked one of His." Snape's tone was a cocktail of disgust, resignation, anger and a very hesitant hope.

Dumbeldore spoke first then, his words greatly surprising the young man. "I am very sorry, my boy," the ancient wizard said, and Snape visibly flinched. "I am sorry that I couldn't prevent it." The old man sighed, the blue eyes pained, and Severus felt a stab in his heart at the sight.

"I decided not to listen," he mumbled to his knees. Then, Snape's head snapped up and the young man's eyes glittered with shame, pride and a plea. "Are you still willing to help me, Professor?" he asked quietly.

Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him. For a long while, he held the boy with a scrutinizing gaze, as if evaluating what his real intentions might be. Snape returned the look as steadily as he was able. "I am willing to try," Dumbledore said finally. "But you will have to let me."

Snape gave a swift nod, his eyes hopeful. "I will do everything you ask of me," he whispered.

"Excellent." Dumbledore smiled. He stood and approached the perch of his Phoenix. _Fawkes?_ He stroked the magnificent feathers. The bird gave out a single squeak and Dumbledore inwardly nodded. _I think the same. Thank you._ The Headmaster turned back to Severus, his eyes finally holding the accustomed twinkle. "So, my boy, why have you again applied for the Defence position, if you already knew I can't very well offer you the post?" he asked to start.

Snape looked back at him with a slight surprise. "I was instructed to do so both this and last year," he replied with hesitation.

"I see." Dumbledore nodded. "Do you know the reason?"

"He...," Severus licked his lips, "the Dark Lord... said I would make the best candidate..."

"Did he specify why he thought that?" Dumbledore frowned. This was strange, to put it mildly.

"I... he claimed..." Snape was clearly nervous. "He said... he said that I... I was your favourite."

Dumbledore saw how the boy's hands trembled inhis nervousness. _Oh yes, this was not what one like Severus would share freely. _Snape looked up at the older wizard, his eyes silently pleading for forgiveness. The Headmaster shook his head. "This is nothing you should excuse yourself for," he muttered.

"What exactly were you supposed to accomplish, Severus?" Dumbledore narrowed his eyes in thought.

Snape turned his eyes down. "He expected me to spy on you," he admitted quietly.

"I see." Dumbledore nodded. _And he believed your chances to receive the position here so good that he even took pains to train you in the mind magic arts personally._ "I see," the old man repeated thoughtfully.

Then the Headmaster suddenly twinkled at the young man. "But this is not why you are here tonight. Am I right, Severus?" he asked, already knowing that his assumption was correct. "Why are you here, my boy?"

Snape seemed more nervous than before. He visibly swallowed, then bit his lip. "The Prophecy... I know... I think I know... whom it refers to." The boy looked at the Headmaster, his eyes haunted. When he continued, it was only in a whisper. "I can't be responsible for her death, Professor... I can't," he repeated. "Damn!" Snape suddenly cried out and hit Dumbledore's table with his palm. "I don't want to have even Potter on my conscience! ... Not her, not her child," his voice fell again to a whisper, and when he looked back at Dumbledore, the old wizard saw a tear running down the boy's cheek. "Please, Professor, help her... help them," Snape pleaded, his eyes filled with pain.

Dumbledore felt relieved, enormously so. Severus could not be such a skilled actor – and even if he were, he knew that Lily Potter and the Slytherin were good friends. _Thank God,_ he thought, _thank you, Lord, for the gift of friendship._

"I shall assist them." Dumbledore nodded. He had already started doing so but that was something the boy didn't need to know at the moment. "But what can I do for you, Severus?" The clear blue eyes were observing the boy.

Snape shook his head. "I don't know what could be done," the boy whispered.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. Thoughtfully, he repetitively stroked his long, silvery white beard. "You were expected to obtain the Defence position and turn spy on me?" he eventuallyasked for confirmation. Snape nodded. "I see." Dumbledore once again stroked his beard.

For a long while, silenceprevailed. Snape was preparing himself on a kind rejection, while his elder pondered scenarios that might both save the young wizard and bring them some advantage in this unfortunate war.

"Would you be inclined to teach in reality?" Dumbledore abruptly asked, and Snape gave a hesitant nod.

"I liked it when I was still a student here," he said softly.

"Ah, yes, I remember both you and Miss Evans were rather successful in those Potions tutorials," Dumbledore nodded. Again, silence filled the office. Snape let hisgaze wander over the room – the portraits around them regarded him with a range of facial expressions. Snape took in the low number of those who looked at least partly sympathetic with him and become painfully aware that he would have to brace himself against the mistrust of the outer world in any case. Contemplating this, Severus almost missed it when Dumbledore spoke to him...

"Excuse me, Headmaster? I wasn't paying attention," he said, again ashamed.

"Never mind, my boy, never mind. I was only asking if you would be willing to teach Potions for us?" the ancient wizard smiled at him.

Snape felt his jaw drop. "Teaching? Potions?" he stammered. "But... but you said... that it wasn't possible... not without reaching the age limit or having Mastery..."

"And that was correct." Dumbledore nodded, "but Professor Slughorn may be receptive to having a junior teacher to hand. He was after me to get him some help often enough in the past after all." The Headmaster smiled. "If he was honest in sharing his wishes, he also wants to retire rather soon. If you teach under his tutelage for some time, the Board of Governors will grant you a conditional exception – perhaps evenfor the upcoming winter term. Especially with your connections there." The old man added and Severus knew he was speaking of Lucius Malfoy, who had inherited the position (along with his money, manor and influence) from his father.

"Do you think Lord Voldemort would be satisfied with this solution?" Dumbledore asked with sincere interest.

Wide-eyed, Snape gave an affirmative nod, not really understanding what Dumbledore wanted to accomplish with this plan.

"Excellent." The old Professor beamed at his companion. "Then I have a proposition for you. I offer you the position of Hogwarts' junior Potions Master – that, by the way, indeed exists in the staff positions, as our Potions teacher is normally also required to provide all the necessary potions for the school's infirmary. In turn, I would ask you if you could provide us with information on Lord Voldemort's plans..."

"You want me to spy on him for you?" Snape breathed, naked fear clear in his voice.

"You are already best equipped to do so, my boy," the Headmaster said reassuringly. "Learning mind magic arts is a great achievement by itself, Severus, and I am sure that you weren't allowed to come here again without mastering them. You wouldn't be here at all if you couldn't hide your doubts from Lord Voldemort, am I not right, Severus?" Dumbledore pressed quietly, his gaze simultaneously concerned, appraising and betraying his overriding resolve to achieve his goal.

"Also, we are in great need of information," Dumbledore smiled sadly as he continued, now back to his more familiar grandfatherly self. "And, my boy, I wouldn't send you back without offering you additional help with your Occlumency. I do believe I still know some defensive means Lord Voldemort is not aware of. Now, Severus, the question is if you are willing to help us defeat him?" The blue eyes glittered behind spectacles.

Severus knew Dumbledore was manipulating him now. Gently, but still. But there were few things he wouldn't do for the old man, if he in turn saved the people Severus had condemned to death. Not if one of them was Lily... "I am willing," he replied, therefore, and meant it.

Dumbledore smiled, satisfied and grateful. He stood up and offered the boy his hand for the second time that evening. Severus took it hesitantly. "In that case, welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Snape," Dumbledore said. Severus looked back at the other man and Dumbledore could see the relief written all over the boy's face. _We will solve this, Severus._ The old man smiled to himself. _With your help, my boy, we have the best chances now…_

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Spinner's End _

_Early May, 1981_

Minerva McGonagall frowned at the contract laying on her table. Junior Potions Professor? She knew the position used to be filled in the past, but she was also well aware that it had happened very irregularly, in essence only when the school lacked a competent nurse or some epidemic or war required the presence of two Potions masters. But it was not normal to offer the position to a boy who was barely out of school himself, not to mention a Death Eater...

But leave it to Dumbledore to invite a Dark wizard to the school where the entire British wizarding youth acquired its magical education! McGonagall sighed. She stood up and reached for the tin with the Floo Powder on her fireplace mantle. So be it, then! she resigned herself and threw a small amount of the powder in the flames. "Spinner's End!" she commanded and stepped through to Severus Snape's home.

The boy hurriedly stood up to offer her a hand and quirked a nervous smile. For an instant, the Deputy Headmistress thought she sawshame and hesitant hope in the young man's bottomless dark eyes. When she looked for the second time, though, she saw only the indifferent expression she had grown accustomed to in the last two years of the boy's schooling.

"Mr. Snape," she greeted, trying to sound neutral and failing.

"Professor McGonagall." Snape nodded back. Then, as if suddenly aware of what was expected of him as a host, the young man quickly added, "Please, take a seat. May I offer you some refreshment?"

_At least something,_ Minerva thought, lowering herself on the old armchair. Aloud, she politely declined the other offer. She had manners after all. When the boy took his seat opposite her, she handed him the contract. Severus ran his eyes over the document, quill and ink already prepared on the table in front of him.

When Snape frowned and, clearly negatively surprised, looked at his old Professor, Minerva thought briefly that he wouldn't sign. _Maybe that would be for the best,_ she thought but then his face took on a resigned expression and the boy reached for the quill and quickly scrawled his signature on the paper.

Minerva couldn't stand the temptation. "Is everything alright, _Professor_ Snape?" she asked, emphasizing the new title.

"Why, yes," Snape scowled back at her. When she still observed him with unhidden curiosity, he muttered, "I just didn't expect to be Professor Slughorn's apprentice."

Professor McGonagall nodded. This wasn't unexpected and she wondered again what exactly Dumbledore had in mind when preparing the contract. "Professor Slughorn will let you both teach and brew on your own," she tried to reassure the distressed young man, for a moment forgetting to whom she spoke. "And should you be still interested, you may take the Mastery exam six months from today." Now, McGonagall sounded absolutely certain of the opposite.

Not understanding the undertone, Snape looked at her, his eyes holding a question.

The Deputy Headmistress frowned at him. I know what you are, Mr. Snape, she wanted to snap at him but stopped herself just in time. "Professor Dumbledore advised me of the special circumstances of your hire," she said therefore, and with satisfaction watched his face losethe bit of colour it had held before.

"I understand," Severus nodded, clearly displeased with this development. He handed her the signed contact and waited till she added her name below that of Albus Dumbledore's. McGonagall then charmed a copy of the document and handed it back to him.

"We are expecting you in Hogwarts at latest on Sunday evening. You are required to attend the faculty dinner on that day to be officially introduced to the students. Equally, you are required to visit with our nurse in the course of the first two weeks of your employment in Hogwarts," Minerva briskly informed, not even attempting to treat the young man kindly. Then she stepped to the fireplace and reached for Snape's supply of Floo Powder.

Before taking the powder, though, Professor McGonagall hesitated and then one last time turned back to Severus. He was scowling at her - or maybe at the piece of parchment that was still on the table in front of him. She shuddered - he most certainly didn't look pleasant. _Somehow I will have to learn to work with him despite__all this,_ she thought and frowned. Then she recalled her manners. With a slight reluctance, the elderly witch offered the young man her hand. "Welcome to the staff, Professor," she smiled forcefully. Snape thanked her with a silent nod.

When his old teacher disappeared in the green flames of the Floo connection, Snape sat back. She didn't like the idea of him coming to Hogwarts, that much was clear. He wondered if anyone except Dumbledore would be inclined to the idea. _Madam Pomfrey might,_ he thought. The nurse treated him very kindly when he worked with her. _But back then you were no Death Eater, Severus,_ the boy reminded himself bitterly. _She will not know,_ he tried to persuade himself but then immediately decided against concealing this from her. _She will know as soon as she first runs a diagnostic charm over your arm, Severus, so you may as well tell her directly…_ Snape sighed. This was not getting any easier.

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

_Early May, 1981_

When Minerva McGonagall told the school nurse that Snape was returning as a junior teacher and would arrive on Sunday, Madam Pomfrey rejoiced in the news. She had grown to like the Slytherin boy Dumbledore entrusted to her care some four years ago. Severus, whom she had previously only seen entering the infirmary with unpleasant scowls, proved – after a while, certainly – to be a more than competent brewer (who deliberately assisted her with potions Horace Slughorn had refused to brew for years) and a dedicated student of healing magic. Moreover, she had been surprised to discover a caring person behind the dark outer countenance.

The Mediwitch straightaway dismissed the frown on the Deputy's face as a sign of McGonagall's dissatisfaction with the hire of a Slytherin instead of a member of her own House. Then, however, Snape arrived and came to see her for the required health check. She could instantlysee – just with the sight of the much too thin wrists – that Severus hadn't taken the best care of himself in the years she hadn't seen him, but such things were easily remedied now that he was to live under her eyes and, more importantly, the watchful eyes of Hogwarts' House Elves. But Poppy was in no way prepared for the information her wand was to reveal and the admission the boy shared with her only seconds later...

"Severus," she greeted with her usual kind smile, now also undoubtedly pleased. "I am very happy you decided to become a teacher here after all. You have much to give," she said, and surveyed him from head to toe. Taller, thinner, darker, if at all possible, she decided. But certainly not as dark as rumour had it.

"Madam Pomfrey," he attempted to smile back. _I need to tell you something,_ he wanted to continue, but the Mediwitch never let him.

"Now, we will finish this quickly, Severus," she drew her wand and nodded at the open file on her table, "and then we can talk a little more before dinner. I am curious to know what you've done over the last three years. That wasn't nice of you, you know, my boy – not to write or visit in all that time." Poppy Pomfrey eyed him with accusation.

"I..." Snape started, but she dismissed his words with a wave of hand.

"Hush now, you are here now and that's all that counts... Take off your outer robes and stand here." She motioned on a spot near the window. Snape grudgingly complied, unconsciously clutching his left arm. Madam Pomfrey saw the movement and made a mental note to check there more thoroughly. Then she moved her wand along the young man's thin body.

She frowned as soon as the wand reached his chest. _Severus,_ she thought, appalled. _What have you been doing to yourself?_

The empty page in Snape's file automatically filled with the results and Severus shuddered, spotting the prolonged list. It wasn't that bad, was it? Madam Pomfrey didn't comment but after the general examination was over, she passed her wand over Snape's arms. To say that her frown deepened would be a clear understatement. She lowered her wand then, her eyes immensely saddened and gazed at the file.

"I think that we ought to see the Headmaster." Poppy refused to meet Snape's eyes.

Severus nodded. "He knows," he whispered.

Madam Pomfrey's head jerked up. "Repeat that, please!" she commanded angrily and approached the fireplace, her hand on the jar with the Floo powder.

"The Headmaster knows that I am a Death Eater, Madam Pomfrey," Snape said with quiet resignation. "So does Professor McGonagall."

"Rubbish," she looked back at him. "Dumbledore wouldn't let a dark wizard teach here!"

"Ask him, please. He will confirm my words," Snape said resignedly.

The Mediwitch shook her head. _Nonsense! Even Albus wasn't such a fool._ She threw the powder in the flames and cried in the green light, "The Headmaster's office!"

Dumbledore answered the call immediately and, taking in the scene in the infirmary, came right through. "Poppy?" he asked, looking reassuringly at his young protégé.

"The boy is a Death Eater, Albus!" Pomfrey exclaimed. "And he has the nerve to say you knew!!" Tears appeared in Madam Pomfrey's eyes. "Albus, please, tell me this is not true!" Poppy Pomfrey demanded, in the depths of her heart desperately wishing the boy were innocent.

"I knew, Poppy," Dumbledore said and led her over to her chair. As soon as she was seated, he lowered himself in front of her and took her cold hands in his. Squeezing them, he assured, "But this is a misconception, my dear. Severus indeed was a Death Eater, but he no longer serves Lord Voldemort. I trust him." Dumbledore looked straight in the boy's hollow eyes. "I trust him," he repeated and Snape felt a wave of gratitude overtake him.

Madam Pomfrey lookedback to the boy at the same time and saw the change in his features. I trust him, sounded in her ears and she shook her head. "Oh, Severus," she sighed quietly, "what have you done to yourself?"

When the boy turned away from her gaze, she finally softened and returned to her matronly manners. "I strictly forbid you any other stupidity like this, Severus Snape! Do you hear me? You have no business playing with the Cruciatus curse. It debilitates the body and mind completely – you should only see the many cases in St. Mungo's close ward! If...,"

She narrowed her eyes and looked at Dumbledore who clearly understood her unvoiced question as he nodded and said, "Unfortunately, that's possible."

"If," she went on, her expressionlivid, "you are once again exposed to the curse, you are immediately to come up here. And don't you dare deliberately disobey me, young man!"

It took Snape a while but eventually he nodded. "Good," Madam Pomfrey muttered and, still irritated, looked back at Dumbledore. The Headmaster smiled at her in his usual manner and she felt her anger cool. Pomfrey shook her head, stood, closed the file and gazed again at the young man who still stood at the same place by the window. "You may dress, Severus. Now, I mean this so don't you assume anything else – I am very happy that you are back here." She nodded at Dumbledore then. "He is healthy. But it would not hurt him to take a bit better care of himself – like eating more." She scowled in the young wizard's direction.

Dumbledore smiled, the eyes behind the half-mood spectacles madly twinkling. "He can start right now – dinner will be served in ten minutes. I will introduce you to the faculty there, Severus. Shall we go – Poppy, my boy?" Dumbledore asked and led the way downstairs with a swirl of his deep blue robes festooned with twinkling stars.

ooooo


	13. Encounters

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 13: Encounters**

_Betaed by cardigrl. Thank you!_

ooooo

_Voldemort's Lair _

_Middle of May, 1981_

"My Lord. " Snape hastily knelt in front of the high chair and bowed to the pale man, his Mark still hurting from the unexpectedly vicious Summons.

"Snape. " Voldemort narrowed his eyes, his tonespeaking volumes of his impatience. _"Finally!_ Lucius says you have good news for me."

"Indeed, my Lord," Snape confirmed, eyes still cast down. "A week from now, you will have your spy in Hogwarts. " Severus looked up, a self-satisfied expression on his face.

But Voldemort didn't plan on praisinghim. _"Is that so?"_ the dark wizard hissed instead, looking straight into Snape's eyes and his wand suddenly appearing in his hand. Snape shuddered when the other man abruptly stood and walked towards him. "My Lord?" he asked, attempting to block the fear from his voice.

Voldemort slowly circled around him now, his expression unreadable. Again practically hissing, the dark wizard continued to question the young man beneath him. "So, Snape … you claim to have fulfilled my orders." The wizard paused and scrutinized the younger man. When he failed to find any hint of treachery in the boy's expression,he continuedin a low and slow voice. "If you _indeed_ did so, Snape, then you shall be rewarded just as I promised. _But then,_ did you _really_ manage that much, Severus?" In that instant, the name he carried from his very birth sounded like a threat to the boy and Snape tried not to tremble. Again, he succeeded – but despite that, Voldemort only smiled dangerously and fondly caressed his wand. Snape's breathing halted for a second at the sight. This was most certainly not going as he had hoped...

"One might ask how you could have managed to get what I had sent you for," the Dark Lord suddenly narrowed his eyes and his wand pointed directly at Snape's face, "if the position was apparently already given to another. " Triumph glittered in Voldemort's merciless eyes. "Care to explain, Snape?" The dark man's wand bored into Snape's neck.

Severus swallowed hard against the wand, then gave a slow nod and looked up into the angry face.

"I trust you refer to the Defence Position, My Lord?" he asked warily, knowing that any poorly chosen word might cost him a great deal of pain, if not his very life or sanity.

"Did I send you to obtain any other, Snape?" Voldemort menacingly whispered in reply, his voice icily cold and eyes intently studying his follower.

"No, my Lord," Snape admitted quietly, his eyes now steadily meeting his one time master's cruel gaze. When the young man continued, his speech was even slower and his wording extremely cautious. "Although it was my impression, my Lord," Snape bowed slightly, "that you would appreciate my getting any position that would be close enough to the old man…" Snape's voice died out and he, chin lifted in his stubborn pride, waited for his sentence.

Voldemort, however, didn't flick his wand, but lowered it instead.

"That I certainly would," the dark man replied slowly, voice again dangerously low, and curiously looked Snape up and down. "Do impress me then, Severus!" Voldemort returned to first names and Snape breathed out in relief. This was a good sign.

"Now, Severus," Voldemort interrupted Snape's musing a moment later, his eyes interested despite himself. "What do you offer in place of the Defence Professorship?"

Snape forced a smile to his lips, hating Dumbledore to the bone for making him do this and despising himself even more for his own wrong choices. "Slughorn will leave Hogwarts, my Lord." He bowed, knowing how the Dark Lord detested any notion of the Potions Professor.

"The old fool wanted to save me from the Dark so desperately that he forced a Junior Potions Professorship on me. Now, if Lucius persuades the other Governors," Snape forcefully smirked, "to agree with my appointment as a regular teacher of the subject for the winter term, Slughorn will be gone from Hogwarts by September. Whomever you see fit, my Lord, can apply for the Head of Slytherin post then," Snape finished with a victorious smile.

Voldemort's red slits of eyes gained a positively satisfied look. "I have to admit I am impressed, Severus," the Dark Lord said, nodding to himself as if upon confirmation of a long suspected fact. Then, the older wizard's expression became amused and Snape, for the umpteenth time in the last few days, inwardly cursed Dumbledore as soon as he heard Voldemort's words.

_"Junior Potions Professorship,_ Severus?" Voldemort loudly chuckled, obviously in an excellent mood. "Are you sure such a position even exists?" he teased, the red gaze sparking in a horrifying caricature of Albus Dumbledore.

Snape bit his lips, forceably keeping his humiliation behind the gritted teeth. "The old man says it does, my Lord," he confirmed with clear disgust. Somehow, he doubted that Voldemort would mind his tone and, obviously, he wasn't mistaken as the man's lips twitched again.

"And you are not satisfied to have gained it?" Voldemort inquired, a deeply amused smirk playing on his narrow lips. "My, my, Snape, what would poor, old Dumbledore think if he heard this? … He took great pains to make it possible for you to become a teacher in that prized school of his at all, I am sure. It does not happen everyday that Hogwarts employs an underaged teacher after all, Severus…"

Snape's eyes shot up in surprise and flickered with badly suppressed anger. "My Lord?" the boy managed, clenching his teeth together in an attempt to conceal his disloyalty.

"Oh yes, Severus, I was aware of the restriction," Voldemort nodded, the amused little smile still in its place. "But it didn't really pain you to bring me this confirmation that the old fool is indeed fond of you, _did it?"_ The dark man smirked then, his eyes again thoroughly studying the young man.

"No… It didn't, my Lord," Severus forced out and kissed the deathly white hand that appeared in front of his face.

"Good," Voldemort mumbled, losing interest. He motioned to Severus to stand.

"You are dismissed then." Voldemort waved his hand towards the room's exit. Snape dutifully bowed and turned to walk to the door. He was almost there when Voldemort, already back on his throne-like chair, spoke again.

"Inform the old fool about the raid in Londonderry, Severus," ordered the quiet voice. "The Muggles are quite efficient to do enough damage in the area by themselves anyway. Offer Dumbledore some reasons to really trust you and we may see yet another exception made for you come autumn. Now, go!"

Snape gave a curt nod and left the room. When he Apparated back to Spinner's End and raised the wards behind him, he sighed in relief. Even Dumbledore wouldn't be so reckless as to offer the Head of House position to a Death Eater – former or not… He hoped, anyway.

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Entrance Hall_

_Middle May, 1981_

Sibyll Trelawney prided herself on being a rather well balanced witch – for a seer, anyway. And seer she most certainly was, whatever Minerva McGonagall and the majority of Hogwarts staff may have thought and whispered behind her back. Her skill manifested itself quite clearly yet again that very afternoon, and as usual in such moments, Sibyll didn't like her readings.

With some hesitation, Trelawney decided that warning the Headmaster would be in order. As she had been notified earlier that week of a festive Sunday dinner in the Great Hall, the seer resolved to join the faculty for it and approach the old wizard right after the dessert.

As evening came and the bell invited all to dinner, Sybill was therefore uncharacteristically descending the stairs, her multiple shawls wrapped tightly around herself and eyes curiously observing what was claimed to be the real world from behind enormous glasses.

Her latest prediction, however, was to become true even before she reached the Great Hall itself. On the staircase leading from the Infirmary, there appeared Dumbledore accompanied by the school nurse, the two of them embroiled in a friendly talk. Sibyll supposed that this wasn't an unusual sight and didn't wonder about the pair. Then, however, right behind the two, a dark-haired young man clad in black from head to toe stepped out from the side staircase and, probably quite accidentally, looked straight at Trelawney.

The seer knew the bottomless black eyes; she froze on the spot and clutched her hand to the hammering chest. _Secret – enemy – death._ It felt as if her readings suddenly materialized in front of her – Sibyll recognized the young man from the Hog's Head; she had found _the spy._

The witch cried out, her shriek alarming the castle, her hand shooting up to point at the young man. "You, you…_You!" _Her world narrowed to one single spot as Sibyll neared the small group around the Headmaster, repeating the same litany over and over again, her eyes unnaturally wide. She looked positively mad.

"YOU!" she cried once again, abruptly stopping several stairs below the Headmaster and Poppy Pomfrey, who was, clearly startled with the outburst, now firmly holding the old man's arm.

Unlike Poppy and the young man behind them, Dumbledore understood entirely too well what was happening here, his mind immediately returning to Hogsmeademore than a year past. The ancient wizard berated himself for not being more cautious and approaching Sybill before Snape's arrival – but then, this was only the fifth time the Headmaster had seen the Divination Professor downstairs since she had started to work at Hogwarts – her own arrival included.

Perfectly aware that even Sybill, who otherwise seemed to have renounced the majority of her magical skills, was under certain circumstances capable of a strong outburst of accidental magic, the old man halted Snape's further descent with a single, curt movement of his hand. Dumbledore noted with relief that whatever the younger man may have thought of the sudden command, he followed the order.

His blue eyes never leaving Sibyll's livid face, wand prepared in the sleeve so he could deal swiftly with any emergencies, Dumbledore squeezed the nurse's hand and quietly asked, "Poppy, would you be so kind?"

Madam Pomfrey gave a stony nod. It took her a moment to compose herself; then she stepped forward and said a careful, "Sibyll?" Trelawney didn't appear to hear her and simply continued to stare in Snape's direction. Pomfrey took another step towards her.

"Professor Trelawney?" she attempted again, carefully nearing the witch and then repeating the same procedure until she stood only a step from the seer. When she didn't receive any answer even then, the mediwitch looked at Dumbledore for further instructions.

"Please keep trying, Poppy," the old wizard demanded quietly; his eyes now distracted as he frowned at a scene playing out in the Entrance Hall far below them.

A couple of older Gryffindor students observed Sybill's outburst from there with badly hidden curiosity, clearly sensing the sensation and undoubtedly excited about the prospect of bringing the news to their peers. Seeing they did not even pretend to turn away when he spotted them, Dumbeldore turned to one of the nearby portraits and quietly requested, "Eadulf, inform Professor McGonagall that she is needed here, please."

The white haired wizard nodded and disappeared from his frame. Mere seconds later, Minerva McGonagall appeared in the door to the Great Hall and sternly reprimanded the students, sending them off to their tables. The enthusiastic whispers the group exchanged before they entered the hall, though, made it absolutely clear that nothing less than an Obliviate would keep the boys silent. The Transfiguration Professor shook her head in disappointment, increased as the boys belonged to her House; then she turned and looked upstairs where she knew Eadulf the Short's portrait hanged.

Taking in the scene above her, Minerva's eyes widened and she too climbed up the lower part of the infirmary staircase, her brain trying to find an explanation to the strange scene playing up there. _Has Snape already managed to curse Trewlaney? Splendid, here we are, _she sighed and braced herself for the worst.

"Sibyll?" Madam Pomfrey tried to get the seer's attention once more right then, only to be cut off by Dumbledore who – eyes once again fixed on Trelawney's face – slowly walked down to the teacher. With a sudden insight, Dumbledoresteppedbetween Sybill and the boy, so that she could no longer see Severus's face, and then took both of her cold hands in his.

"Sibyll," the old wizard repeated Pomfrey's words in a gentle tone – and finally, the charm broke and Trelawney looked at him, her eyes both fearful and angry; the lowered hands trembling. When she spoke, her voice shook.

"It's him, Headmaster. _Him."_

"Severus Snape is joining the faculty as junior Potions Professor, Sybill," Dumbledore said, his gaze firmly holding hers. If he hoped that Trelawney would be calmed by these words, he was mistaken.

"It's the spy from the Hog's Head, Headmaster!" Sybill spat accusingly, her bespectacled eyes flashing angrily at Dumbeldore's face. "It's him… And you are giving him a job here!"

Suddenly, Sybill's frown deepened as she recalled her card reading. "You don't know what he is capable of, Dumbledore! You don't know how this will end… you don't know what the cards say!" Sibyll saw death and chaos coming to them. From a long distance maybe, but still – and she didn't like the picture.

Dumbledore sighed. He wasn't favourably disposed toward Divination, and if he didn't need to keep Sybill close for her own protection, he would gladly abolish the subject. Card and crystal ball readings were in his opinion not real prophesying, and he refused to concern himself with warnings based on simple fortune telling.

Still, he managed to smile kindly in the Divination Professor's direction. "Sibyll, dear, calm down, please. Nobody is going to hurt anyone here, I assure you," Dumbledore spoke slowly and reassuringly, as if to a small child, and finally was rewarded as the shaking of Trelawney's hands slowly subsided. "Good," he whispered, his warm hands squeezing her still freezing ones. Then his eyes found Minerva behind Sibyll's back. He nodded, and Minerva approached them.

"Sibyll?" Dumbledore tried to get the witch's full attention. When she looked at him, her eyes confused and unhappy, he carefully handed her over to McGonagall. "Professor McGonagall will take you to my office. If you could wait there for me, I shall return there immediately after dinner to discuss the matter." Trelawney gave a reluctant nod and let McGonagall lead her away. Dumbledore turned to Severus. The boy looked positively nauseated.

"Are you all right, Severus?" Dumbledore asked gently, and the boy swallowed and looked back at him, his eyes pained. "I am," he assured, his tone suggesting he didn't wish to further elaborate this statement. When Madam Pomfrey turned to him a fraction of second later, his face was already blank. "I am all right, Madam Pomfrey," he repeated to her, his voice already absolutely calm. With a swirl of black fabric, the young man returned to descending the stairs.

Madam Pomfrey pursued his steps with a worried expression for a moment. When she looked back at Dumbledore, he nodded. It was obvious that Sybill wouldn't be the only one he would have to speak to. "I will speak with him, Poppy," the old man promised and followed the young man downstairs. Madam Pomfrey sighed. Then, shaking her head, she too continued in the Great Hall's direction.

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Great Hall_

_May, 1981_

"Look, that's him," one of the Gryffindors who had been in the Entrance Hall said loudly, excitedly pointing at Dumbeldore's young companion.

The whole table turned its eyes towards the door and several of the sixth and seventh years drew in sharp breaths. _"That's Snape!"_ exclaimed a seventh year who used to hang around the Marauders.

"Snape?" somebody wondered aloud and a couple of older students smirked.

"Snivellus," corrected the one who shouted the young Professor's name before. The eyes of his Housemates were immediately trained on him.

_"Snivellus?"_ asked one of the younger students curiously.

The seventh year nodded. "That's it. A Slytherin slump of the worst sort – no matter what they say about him being a Potions and Defence or, well, Dark Arts genius. Even Slughorn said that he had disappointed him…"

"…they said he turned dark, right?"

"…and killed the Prewetts…"

"…he is a Death Eater?"

"…hey, Dumbledore wouldn't employ a Death Eater at Hogwarts…"

"…I wouldn't be so sure – he is a genius but…"

"…but quite crazy at the same time, right?"

"…still, the Ministry would not possibly allow him to appoint a Dark wizard here…"

The Gryffindors had embroiled themselves in such a lively discussion that they almost didn't notice Dumbledore rising to make the awaited announcement. The Headmaster eyed their table and delicately coughed. "May I begin?" he asked kindly and immediately, the Hall grew silent.

"As you surely noticed, Hogwarts, once again, lacks a Defence Professor. It wasn't easy to find one this late in the term – especially as we are in the middle of a war. As some of you are, however, in need of a swift and preferably most expert follow-up for the upcoming exams," the old man smiled with a gentle, slightly mischievous twinkle, "for which I hope you have revised even in the absence of appropriate instructor." He gave another gentle smile, sounding absolutely certain of the opposite. "I am very pleased to introduce to you our new Defence against the Dark Arts Professor…" Applause greeted a short wizard who rose at the end of the Head Table and slightly bowed in all directions, making the Professor's name inaudiable, "who until recently worked as anAuror at the Ministry."

Dumbledore waited until the Hall quieted a bit and then continued, "However, as our most excellent Potions teacher, Professor Horace Slughorn," he beamed in the fat man's direction, "expressed a wish to retire soon, we may welcome another staff addition tonight. Some of you," he glanced atthose Gryffindors who had been so loudearlier, "will remember Professor Severus Snape as a student – one of the best this school has seen in a few decades, I might add." Dumbledore winked at Snape sitting next to him. The boy responded with a scowl, and Dumbledore had to suppress a smile.

"Now," he continued, "I am not unaware of the reasons why Hogwarts usually does not employ teachers below 25 years of age." Here he paused for a moment and again pointedly looked at the Gryffindor table, his features for once - reluctantly - stern. "I trust, nonetheless, that you all understand by now – on some subconscious level perhaps, but still - that the inter-House rivalry has no place where your education is at stake.Severus Snape, despite his young age, belongs among the most talented Potions brewers in Britain and we are very lucky and honoured to be able to welcome him as our junior Potions Professor, with the expectation that he will become out primary teacher in upcoming winter term." Dumbledore smiled and those in the Hall again raised their hands to applaud the newcomer. This time, however, the reaction was much less enthusiastic – especially from the Gryffindor table.

Some time later, when the dinner was over, Dumbledore turned to his new Potions Professor. The young man's face was troubled, and Snape didn't even attempt to raise his Occlumency shields to block the feeling.

"My boy?" Dumbledore inquired gently.

Snape frowned and turned to the old man. "I don't think this is going to work," he said in his characteristically emotionless voice, motioning to the deserted Gryffindor table.

"You underestimate yourself, Severus," Dumbledore calmly contradicted him. "I trust that you will become a most dedicated teacher."

"Do you now?" Snape quirked up an eyebrow, his voice dripping sarcasm. "I would like to hear what leads you to that impression, Headmaster. Somehow, I cannot imagine myself being a good teacher when faced by a bunch of" - _empty-headed,_ he thought - "Gryffindors…"

"Severus!" Dumbledore said in reprimand, and then smiled. "I shall only repeat what I said to our students before - the inter-House rivalry has no place here and now." The ancient wizard rose with a sigh, his joints aching after the long day. As he left, he patted Snape's shoulder. "Good night, my boy. I am sure you will surprise even yourself. I most certainly did in my case," the old man smiled fondly at the memory and, happily humming, left the room.

Snape shook his head. He would teach the prats – but nobody could expect him to like them. Not Gryffindors, anyway.

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Horace Slughorn's office, Dungeons_

_Middle of May, 1981_

"Severus Snape. " Slughorn nodded at the young man who stood in front of his office. "Come in." He let the young man pass and closed the door behind them.

Slughorn took a seat and motioned Snape to that opposite him. For a while, the Professor simply scrutinized the younger brewer; then he quietly said, "So, Hogwarts after all, Severus? I was under the impression that you found yourself amore pretigiousjob." His voice was icy. "Frankly, I don't think teaching children would suit you, Severus."

Snape didn't answer for a while. "I enjoyed the tutorials," he said then, calmly.

Slughorn nodded. "I am well aware of that. But then, Miss Evans certainly contributed to your success, didn't she?" _She was the patient one there, Severus, not you._ Just in time, he stopped himself from saying that aloud. _What purpose would it serve?_ He wondered suddenly. _Dumbledore wanted the boy close and would have his way no matter what. _

Snape looked at him with a quiet resignation onhis face, not answering verbally. The boy seemed like he hadn't much choice himself, and Horace finally decided to keep silent. He wanted to leave the school as soon as possible after all, didn't he? The Professor stood and turned to his shelves, taking out the syllabi. Wordlessly, he laid them in front of the boy and then turned to his private laboratory, leaving the boy to himself.

When he returned with another stack of papers, Snape had his nose buried in the second year's lesson plans. He looked up at Slughorn in disgust.

"My boy?" Horace couldn't help but ask, his voice honey sweet.

Snape frowned but said nothing. Slughorn peered over his shoulder and curtain of black hair. Babbling beverage, he saw and smiled. "Do you think it inappropriate, my boy? I seem to recall that your brew was excellent that day..."

Snape's shoulders slumped. Yes, he remembered it now as well - he kept grinning at Lily that whole lesson, the two of them exchanging ideas on whose Pumpkin juice they should lace with the Potion...

He nodded. "I can see certain benefits inteaching this particular potion to that particular age group," he admitted through gritted teeth.

Slughorn nodded back. "Excellent, Severus," he said and laid his papers on the volume. "This is what St. Mungo's and the Ministry asked us for. I would really appreciate if you would dedicate yourself to brewing the potions underlined in red in the nearest future."

Severus ran his eyes over the prolonged lists of potions. Some were fairly easy, although time-consuming – ideal for keeping the students busy; others quite complicated, reserved originally most likely for Slughorn – and now marked for him. He understood well the need of healing draughts and strengthening remedies, even the disorienting brews required by the Ministry. But what the _hell_ was _the Babbling Beverage_ doing on the bottom of the Ministry list? Merlin forbid he would make that one! Snape scowled at the paper. Slughorn clearly anticipated this turn of events as he again smiled and said, "I see you have found the latest Ministry request. I hope that you can brew it with the same enthusiasm you showed back in your second year."

With that, he pulled an expensive Muggle pen out of his pocket and added a red line below the Babbling Beverage's order. Then, he handed the young man the last few papers. "Here are the lesson plans for the next weeks. This week, you shall sit in the classes with me; from the next week on, you will take over the third, fourth and sixth years. Finish the syllabi by then!" With that he walked over to the door and opened it to the young man. "Good bye, Severus," he said coldly.

Snape stood, the books floating behind him, reminding him of another occasion when he had been given similar instruction. But, thankfully, Slughorn wasn't the Dark Lord, however unfriendly he treated Severus these days. "Professor," he said in his accustomed emotionless voice and left the room.

_I will manage,_ Snape decided as he descended to the dungeons. _But as soon as Slughorn is away, the Babbling draught will be crossed from the curriculum._ The boy's lips thinned in a dreamy smile, Snape not even realizing he had resolved to teach in the next year as well…

ooooo


	14. Phoenixes

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 14: Phoenixes**

_A/N: Before you start reading, I would like to remind you that this was written (or in some parts plotted out) before DH came out. Therefore, Snape's Patronus will not have the shape of a doe. Frankly, I don't like that Rowling gave him a Patronus form that close to the of James (and, well, Harry)... _

_Betaed and in many ways improved by cardigrl. Thank you for all your hard work on this fic! (-:_

_This said, enjoy__ – and __don't forget to review!_

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster's office_

_October, 1972_

It was his first time in Dumbledore's office. Interested despite himself, the small second-year boy let his eyes wander over the many portraits of the past Headmasters and Headmistresses and Dumbledore's large desk covered with scrolls, heaps of unused parchment and a collection of the old man's mysterious spiny silver instruments. At last, the boy caught a glimpse of an ugly, wrinkled bird that occupied a perch by the window and his eyes widened in fascination.

Transfixed by the sight, the boy dropped the notes on the use of Salamander blood in revival potions which he had until then guarded so well, even repeatedly refusing to hand them over to the increasingly angry Professor McGonagall. His gaze rivited on the bird, Severus walked over to the perch as if hypnotized, no longer concerned about his punishment.

Distantly, he still heard Professor McGonagall complaining to the Headmaster from the adjoining room, but he no longer listened to her words. After all, by now he could recite them: _smuggling forbidden books from the library – Most Potente Potions – undisciplined – studying Dark potions – dangerous to his classmates and himself. _McGonagall had already read him the riot act downstairs anyway, and he didn't think she could have come up with anything he hadn't heard in those ten minutes she had walked him up here before depositing him in the Headmaster's office to await her return with the Headmaster.

It was also why he didn't react when Dumbledore finally promised, "I will deal with it, Minerva." The boy vaguely noted that his Transfiguration Professor left the office muttering in dissatisfaction, but he didn't turn. Then Dumbledore suddenly stood right next to him.

"Severus?" the old wizard asked, using the boy's name for the first time.

Snape continued to stare at the bird. _"_You have a Phoenix, Headmaster_,"_ he said finally, quietly, still facing away from the old man.

"That I have," Dumbledore confirmed kindly and smiled at the boy over his half-moon spectacles. Leaving the boy another moment with the bird, Dumbledore looked at the parchment he had picked up when returning to the office. _Salamander blood,_ he read and raised his eyebrows – more in surprise than in disappointment or anger.

When he spoke to the boy, it was in his usual gentle way. **"**It's a pity you cannot see Fawkes in his usual magnificence, my boy. Phoenixes are very beautiful creatures when they are not approaching their Burning day."

Severus still did not look back at him. He only gave a slight smile to the bird, carefully reaching out with his hand to touch it, and said in protest, "He is beautiful now. The scarlet and gold is only a veneer anyway, is it not?" The bird let the boy run a hand over its ashen plumage in response.

When Severus stepped back, he held a small grey feather. The young Slytherin looked up at the Headmaster with terrified eyes. _I didn't pull – I didn't want to,_ he thought desperately. Dumbledore watched him with his accustomed kind smile. Contrary to Severus' fears, Dumbledore did not react negatively at all.

"You can keep it, Severus," the old wizard said simply and gestured to the table. "Now, however, we need to discuss your..." the man paused here, carefully studying the boy. Seeing what he desired, the old man's smile grew wider and he finished: "... _your __research._ Professor McGonagall is completely right that you are a little bit too young for this kind of book."

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Headmaster's suite_

_Second half of May, 1981_

Seeing how hard it was for Severus to get back to his feet this last time, Dumbledore lowered his wand and gently opined, "I trust this will suffice for tonight, my boy."

Snape frowned. The Occlumency and Legilimency sessions with Dumbledore were undoubtedly taxing, but he was all too aware he desperately needed to master the subtler ways of the mind magic arts at which Dumbledore excelled. The Dark Lord had said it himself, when he still rightfully thought Severus his faithful servant: Dumbledore was more proficient in the old techniques than he. Snape was not ready to let any of the lessons end before he was unable to even stand. With literally everything that mattered to him at stake, he did not like to even consider how little free time Dumbledore actuallyhad at his disposal**. **

"No," Severus therefore shook his head resolutely. "Not yet," he repeated stubbornly when Dumbledore kept his wand down.

"This will do neither of us any good, my boy. We are both too tired," Dumbledore said calmly, as he settled into his large, well-stuffed chair. "Please, sit down for a moment and let the old man catch his breath." The Headmaster smiled at the scowling young man, who took the offered seat with great reluctance, and set a cup full of steaming tea in front of his protégé. The young man refused to touch the tea but he slowly grew less agitated.

Only hesitantly, Dumbledore interrupted the peaceful atmosphere several minutes later. He regretted the necessity, but their time was limited. "Severus," he said, knowing he had to ask the question and that there wouldn't be any better moment. "I intended to ask you if you were able to conjure a Patronus."

For a while, the young man simply looked at him, startled by the unexpected question. Then he gave a nod and said a curt, "I am."

This was one of the rare moments when even the ever-composed Dumbledore had to swiftly swallow his surprise. _People who had spent prolonged periods of time exploring Dark magic were not able to cast the charm. _When the Headmaster managed to calm himself, he graced his young protégé with a smile. "This simplifies our problem, I believe," he said, sounding relieved.

Snape regarded him questioningly.

Dumbledore smiled again. "I shall explain shortly, Severus. Now, do me a favour and show me your Patronus."

Snape shook his head slightly but stood and prepared his wand anyway. The boy closed his eyes for a moment, his face showing deep concentration. Then, Snape opened his eyes, raised the wand and exclaimed: "Expecto Patronum!"

Dumbledore didn't know what he had expected. Slytherin's snake? The ancient eagle from the crest of the Prince family? Any strong animal that would be able to stand up to a werewolf's attack? Whatever, he certainly wasn't prepared to see the creature that appeared in front of Severus's wand. When the Headmaster caught the stunned expression on Snape's face, he understood that the younger wizard's astonishment equalled his own.

The only one in the chamber who remained calm was Fawkes, the Phoenix perched until then behind Dumbledore's desk. The bird joined the silvery being in the flight around the room and happily squeaked when the other creature composed of pure light disappeared behind the window in the early night. Fawkes flew over to Severus, who sat back in his chair, clearly startled. Landing on the young man's knees, the bird inclined his long neck to the boy's face, softly rubbing his head over the surprised features of the young human in a grateful gesture before he took off to return to his usual spot.

"Severus?" Dumbledore attempted to get the young man's attention. Snape looked up, his eyes still unbelieving. "I take it this wasn't the form your Patronus had in the past?"

"No," Snape answered quietly. "No, it wasn't,Professor." The boy's expression was no longer stunned, but still betrayed his confusion.

Dumbledore nodded in understanding. "This may occur when the caster has experienced a significant change in his life," he explained. "Neither of us can deny that you fulfill this requirement."

Grimly, Snape nodded. The Headmaster walked over to him and gently patted his shoulder. He chuckled when Snape's face remained unchanged. "My dear boy, there is no shame in having the lightest magical being of all as your magical guard! Phoenixes are rare not only in real life but also among Patronuses,Severus, and there is a reason for that. Few wizards are even able to summon the necessary amount of power to produce a stable corporal Patronus – as I am sure you are well aware – and even fewer possess a magical core as full of light as yours currently is. See, my boy, loving somebody – no matter if romantically or as a friend – and being ready to offer your life for his makes you stronger, however you hesitate to believe it yourself."

A happy twinkle appeared in Dumbledore's blue eyes when he continued, "Should a time come when you would need to prove your real allegiances, this Patronus form shall also not leave anybody doubting."

However, as fast as the twinkle had appeared, it disappeared again and the Headmaster's face turned troubled. _"Unfortunately, not only those on our side…" _Dumbledore mumbled suddenly, absentmindedly walking over to the window. Gazing out of it, the old man repeatedly stroked his long beard, clearly deep in thought.

The boy's Patronus was a Phoenix catching fire, the ugly, wrinkled being that held a promise of future beauty – a strangely accurate symbol for both the boy's dark past as well as his lighter and yet uncertain present and future. Accurate, yet also a symbol too obvious to anyone who had ever visited Dumbledore's office, with the Patronus' appearance clearly reminiscent of Fawkes…

Realizing that Snape's Patronus wouldn't be the safety measure he had been hoping for, Dumbledore frowned deeply. Snape observed his superior quizzically. When the Headmaster finally fully turned back to him and caught the expression, he gave the boy a nod, silently promising to answer his questions.

"The Patronus charm is usually used as a magical guard, Severus, primary in the defence against Dementors, as you indubitably know," the old man started, his face still shadowed. "No doubt you know also that the Patronus form is unique for every single wizard. This and the necessary Light essence of the charm that prevents any tampering with the Patronus brought me to a _– shall I be immodest –_ rather excellent idea of using these guards to transfer urgent and most confidential messages… I intended to and _still shall_ teach you the technique but, _alas,_ I am afraid that I can't encourage you to use the knowledge except in true emergencies now."

The old man sighed and continued, "And there I was hoping to make your situation easier…" The Headmaster stopped here, for a while again lost in his thoughts. Then, he jerked up, concern spreading all over his wrinkled face: "Severus, does Lord Voldemort know the form of your guard? Or does he even know that you are able to create a Patronus?"

The boy shook his head. "No, he has never seen it," he replied, and Dumbledore sighed in relief. Snape was, however, not yet finished. "But I am positive he is aware that I was able to create a Patronus when I was still at Hogwarts. Evan Rosier mentioned it in front of him at least once." Snape looked at the older wizard. "But he has never asked me to perform it."

"Good." Dumbledore nodded, silently contemplating what he had been told and swiftly weighting the pros and cons of the revelations. The long fingered hands folded behind his back, the old wizard stood by the fireplace for a while, his eyes unfocused. Then, lost in his thoughts, he began pacing the room, his steps closely watched by both the young Slytherin and his Phoenix familiar.

Several long minutes later, the old wizard abruptly stopped, turned to Severus and instructed, his voice a strict, if well-meant, command, "You shall not use your Patronus when Lord Voldemort might see it or receive a report about it, Severus. I must also ask that you not use it in the public until the war is over.There is always a possibility that it would be seen by wrong people or that even our allies might accidentally let the knowledge slip." Dumbledore sighed as he said this, hoping the young man sitting opposite him would understand his words for what they were – a sincere worry for his safety and well-being.

His gaze now firmly fixed on Snape, the Headmaster continued, "Also should the need arise for you to substitute in a Defence class having Dementors on its schedule** – **and no, Severus, that does not mean that I am considering letting you take over that class -" he added sternly when he saw the eager look on the young Professor's face "- then _under no circumstances _are you to show your guard. There are other techniques you may apply when you have to face a Dementor, as you may already be aware – a variety of Occlumency being one of the most effective and the easiest for you to adopt here, I believe. Considering how rare mind magic arts knowledge is these days, however, I must ask you to make yourself privy to at least one of the less advanced techniques that you may share with the students - should it be necessary."

Dumbledore's voice died out as the man turned to his bookcase and Snape nodded his unhappy affirmation to the old man's back, knowing the other wizard was right. Then Severus looked away and silence again filled the room.

It took a while to Dumbedore to scan his bookshelves. Finally, he retrieved a rather worn-out volume labeled _Beyond the Patronus Charm_ and handed it to the younger man. "This may help you to find a technique that would suit you the best, Severus."

Dumbledore looked at the younger man apologetically then; his voice, when he started to speak, sad. "My boy, forgive me for ordering this. Believe me when I say that it greatly pains me to forbid you any means that might increase your safety in this dangerous game."

Snape gave another nod while paging through the old book. When he was finished with the first inspection, he set the volume aside, stood up and, drawing out his wand, he said resolutely, his face now wearing a crooked smile, "If this is the case,Headmaster, then we should take care that _the means I currently possess _may protect me sufficiently. Please, cast the spell again!"

Dumbledore sighed deeply, but then stood as well and complied with the boy's request.

When the exhausted Potions Professor finally left the chambers some hour later, the Headmaster reached for his Pensieve. Severus's Phoenix Patronus sprang out of the Potions Professor's wand in the recorded memory and Dumbledore let his face soften in a gentle smile.

"Thank you, my boy," he whispered. "It's nice to have proof."

From behind Dumbledore, Fawkes gave a deeply satisfied squeak. The wizard stood up and approached the bird's perch. He raised his hand and caressed the rich scarlet plumage. _I am happy you were right, Fawkes,_ he thought. _More than you could ever imagine._

ooooo

St. Mungo's

_Late May, 1981_

"Professor Slughorn!" a sand-haired wizard in his forties cried in pleasant surprise and hurried to the bald, fat man before the Professor could, immersed as usual in discussion with one of his past protégés, disappear from his sight down one of the hospital corridors.

Horace Slughorn turned to the younger man with a broad smile, asking his female companion to wait for him in her office. _"Damocles Belby!_ Just the person I wanted to talk to! Will you find an hour in your _surely overfilled_ schedule for your old, _lonely_ teacher later in the afternoon, my dear boy?"

"Certainly, Professor, _whenever_ you decide to drop by! I have been hoping for your visit for quite some time!" Belby's face lit in delight.

"Teaching and brewing, teaching and brewing, my boy! Nevertheless, I promise to come round today. Now that the Headmaster_ finally_ saw fit to hire a supporting Potions teacher, I may even be able to find some time for my neglected research!" Slughorn folded his hands on his round belly, his face showing deep satisfaction with the latest development at Hogwarts.

"That is splendid news, Professor!I was hoping to read something new from you soon!" Belby sounded positively excited. "Your last article on belladonna extract has been very helpful in my studies on inhibiting the werewolves' predatory instincts during the full moon."

Slughorn beamed, clearly flattered. "There is nothing that could have pleased me more than hearing this, Damocles! It warms a teacher's heart when he hears that his students appreciate his efforts! It happens more and more rarely these days," the Potions Professor's voice sank in disappointment.

Belby shook his head. "One would hardly believe that after I had the chance to work closely with several of your graduates. Especially this last one, Snape, must have belonged to your collection of the greatest Potions talents…"

"Snape? _Severus Snape?_ Eileen Prince's son?" Slughorn asked, clearly startled. Then he frowned, his tone demanding an answer. _"He _worked_ for you, _Damocles?"

The younger Potions Master laughed good-naturedly,clearly misinterpreting Slughorn's eagerness. "Professor, don't tell me that the lad had managed to escape your attention, please! I seem to recall that he asked me if I would take him as my apprentice during one of your soirées – or soon after it, anyway. I don't recall precisely anymore – but never mind that, I am positive he knew me from one of your nice gatherings… A very talented boy, really. Few would have managed to pass the Mastery course at the rate he had."

_"He has a Mastery in Potions?"_ Slughorn literally gasped at him in disbelief, swiftly counting the years that separated them from Snape's graduation's year.

"No, _no,_ he hasn't – and this is the strange thing about the boy," Belby's eyes became concerned and he frowned as he continued, "He was as ready as humanly possible at this age and then he simply failed to show up for the examination. I haven't seen him since then…" Belby's kind eyes clouded as he was, obviously pained, pondering the boy's possibly tragic fate. _Halfblood, _ran through the St. Mungo's brewer's mind, and the man silently prayed to be proven mistaken.

Slughorn looked startled once again. But unlike Belby, he didn't think about the boy whom he knew to be safe at Hogwarts. The only thing he was able to feel was a wave of rage towards the old Headmaster. _Dumbledore! You manipulative __old__bastard!_ he thought in fury. _What is this supposed to mean? If what Belby says is right, then Snape is practically__ fully qualified to teach on his own! Don't give me that the boy wouldn't be able to pass the exam! He most certainly has the knowledge... Just why do you insist on keeping me at that wretched school of yours then, Albus?_ Not understanding, Slughorn silently swore and vowed to speak with Dumbledore immediately upon returning to Hogwarts.

For the time being, however, the old man simply cracked a slightly twisted smile and attempted to calm Belby's concerns. "_The __wonder boy_ works at Hogwarts now, Damocles. Don't you worry about him." Folding his hands on his belly once again, Horace Slughorn added sweetly, his face determined, "And I assure you that the boy _will complete_ his education."

_I shall not hang around Hogwarts any longer – not if you have lied to me, Albus! And if you didn't know either – then you will now have to let me go anyway… _Deeply satisfied, the older man nodded his good-bye to Belby and, promising toreturnlater in the afternoon, he resumed his walk to the office of his other St. Mungo's acquaintance.

ooooo

_A/N 2: The delay: I know it's a huge one – and I am deeply sorry for that – but let me say that I won't abandon this fic. There shall be roughly 22 chapters. We (me and my dear beta cardigrl) have used the meantime to improve and reedit the current story – now it's also published on cardigrl's life journal account. You can review on both places. _

_But do review, we both appreciate it. (-:_


	15. Werewolves

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 15: Werewolves**

_A/N: I apologize but this chapter has not (yet) been betaed. I am feeling kind of guilty for not waiting for my excellent beta's (who has been unfortunately busy of lately) approval for this one, but I will soon enter my final part of PhD studies and I simply need to finish this __story before, otherwise I may not finish it at all. )-: Please, excuse my occassional mistakes and enjoy! _

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_May 1981_

The Potions syllabi he had gotten from Slughorn several minutes ago firmly clutched beneath his arm, Severus Snape entered the Entrance Hall. Filch, the caretaker, was supposed to wait for him there to show him to his new quarters somewhere down in the Slytherin dungeons. The House Elves had already brought Severus's few possessions there and the young man had to admit he was becoming rather curious as to where the Headmaster hid his_ tamed Death Eaters._

Since Filch was late or he arrived early, the newly installed Potions supporting teacher – Snape shuddered over the title again – set his load on one of the window sills and, his back turned to the Hall and the occasionally passing students, rested his eyes on the school grounds. He stood there quite calmly, unsure how he felt back at the school, when his ears caught the much too familiar sound of the greatly hated name the Marauders had baptized him with.

When he turned, already angered, it was to the sight of two Gryffindor students whom he thought to vaguely remember from the dinner in the Great Hall. _"Snivellus," _said one of them again, cockily simpering, and Snape quite unthinkingly drew his wand and, pointing it at the brat, vigorously walked over to where the two stood, so alike Potter and Black in their own school years. Except – except now _he _was authorised to deal with them – and quite more accomplished on the top of that. Snape smiled contently and searched his mind for an appropriate hex to punish the boys with.

It was like a déjà vu when Minerva McGonagall entered the hall in that very moment, her eyes widening in shock at the sight of Snape's bare wand. Her face was furious when she looked from her students to her… _colleague._ _Damn you, Dumbledore,_ she swore inwardly, _for employing the boy here and not explaining the rules to him!_

"_Professor _Snape! I don't think this would be quite necessary," the Deputy Headmistress pronounced icily and her eyes commanded him to immediately pocket the wand. Suddenly greatly ashamed of himself, the young man complied and with a curt, non-saying nod returned to staring at the grounds.

When the two Gryffindors burst up laughing at the sight, McGonagall sternly turned to them. "Mr. Hodgkinson, Mr. Wren," she said with unhidden reprimand, "you will _kindly _accompany me to the Headmaster's office." The two quieted immediately and McGonagall used the calm moment before the storm to approach Snape and angrily hiss in his ear: "I will _not_ see such immature behaviour from you ever again or _I swear _I will let slip just how you obtained the teaching post here. _Are we understood?" _

"Perfectly," Snape forced through his tightly clenched teeth and Professor McGonagall nodded. _"Exce__llent,"_ she said, marginally satisfied, and with a final warning glare in his direction marched her students upstairs.

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_June 1981_

The long day was exhausting for the old wizard despite it was by no means as taxing as several other moments in the recent weeks. Thankfully, Hogwarts's soil soaked with the magic of dozens generations of wizarding youth substituted the old man and Dumbledore felt new strength running through his veins the moment he stepped on the school grounds. Unfortunately, while the body filled itself with new energy, the mind of the aging man remained tired.

It was only when the Headmaster recalled the planned meeting with his youngest staff member that he reacquired his usual, now slightly grandfatherly manners. Smiling, the old wizard started to hum when he passed Hagrid's hut and he smiled yet again a moment later, glad that two of his favourite children were now living safely under his roof.

Dumbledore was well aware that Snape had signed the contract that restricted him to a level of Slughorn's apprentice only unwillingly. The old man was nonetheless confident that the young Slytherin would be soon longing for more freedom and that he would – circumstances allowing – do everything in his power to deliberate himself from his old House teacher's protectorate.

When Dumbledore's thoughts reached this point, corners of the old wizard's mouth twitched in a mischievous smile. If what Horace had furiously shouted in his face the previous evening was right, then the boy would even have the best chance to turn the youngest regular Hogwarts teacher in the past century – Flying instructors, who usually joined the collegium for their athletic skills rather than any special knowledge they could possibly possess, disregarded.

Still softly humming, the old man entered the quieted and darkened castle. Surprisingly swiftly for his old age, Dumbledore reached the tower where his suite was located. It was considerably long after midnight and he was looking forward to laying down in his bed and opening the Muggle detective novel that awaited him on the bedside table.

Almost equally alluring was the thought of the following morning. Snape was to drop by then and they were to once again work on perfecting the young man's mind-shielding skills. It had been a long time since Dumbledore had actually taught and even longer since he had such a talented and dedicated student and the old Professor was immensely enjoying their sessions. _Oh, yes, there were certainly a few brighter spots on this wretched war, _he thought.

Dumbledore's good mood, however, was to disappear much too fast – right in the moment he passed the gargoyle and entered the dark antechamber that hold the spiral staircase leading to his office and the flat beyond. The space was not empty as Dumbledore would have expected. No – someone waited there for him, probably rather patiently, seeing to the late hour of his return.

When Dumbledore moved from the threshold and the light coming from the corridor faintly illuminated the antechamber, the dark figure that sat on the top of the staircase proved to be the very young man Dumbledore had fondly thought of just moments earlier. While Snape was neither weeping, nor shouting, the Headmaster could almost touch the overwhelming despair that stared at him from the young man's unseeing eyes.

"Severus," Dumbledore muttered in an attempt to get the boy's attention as he climbed up the for once still standing stairs. When he failed, he slowly lowered himself next to his young employee. Cautiously, the old Headmaster took one of the boy's cold hands in his both and quietly asked: "What is wrong, my boy?" He hoped for a hesitant but truthful reply; a reply that never came.

The old wizard contemplated standing up and leading the distraught boy into his chambers but then it occurred to him that Snape probably preferred sitting out here, in the darkness where his face could be hidden from his companion and any treacherous tear may be carefully wiped off, possibly even without Dumbledore noticing. The boy had been after all granted almost unlimited access to his quarters and might have comfortably waited there rather than sitting in the cold staircase.

Dumbledore sighed, leaned on the wall and waited. The bright-lit office had satisfied Severus several weeks ago when the young man had returned to their side, _had returned to him _– but back then Snape had been too despaired to ask for anything else.

Now, a young teacher of his school was sitting next to him and Dumbledore was only too well aware of just how much Snape needed to feel that he was – if grudgingly – accepted at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, the boy hadn't been welcomed by quite some of his fellow Professors, Minerva sadly in one of the front places. More pressing even was the fact that a not entirely small group of the older Gryffindor students still happened to remember _amusing _stories from Snape's school days. Dumbledore had to be fairly strict with them so that they didn't freely share the knowledge – and it troubled him that even his unusually harsh words might have not fully helped.

Keeping all this on mind, Dumbledore remained sitting patiently on the narrow, cold stair, waiting for the moment when Severus decided to speak up. Time to time, the Headmaster let his aged fingers softly run over the hand of the Slytherin, in an attempt to make the boy feel safe.

"Headmaster…," the newly installed Potions Professor finally brought cross his lips many long minutes later. Dumbledore opened his tired, bespectacled eyes and smiled at the youth in encouragement.

"I… I am…," Snape attempted to continue, evidently anxious and not sure if Dumbledore should be told. Then however, all of sudden, he spitted out what he felt and Dumbledore, saddened with what he heard, squeezed the boy's hand, hard. The development had to be expected but somehow, the old man had let himself hope that Severus would be granted several quiet weeks to adjust at the school before he would be asked to join the direct fights again.

"Headmaster… I could feel it – the pull of the Dark Magic… It's back… I am… _afraid, _Professor," Snape muttered incoherently. "I won't be able to do this… I cannot turn dark… not again… I… I can't hurt _her _if… if He orders it – and He will… _Please, _don't ask it of me… Send me to Azkaban instead, Professor… _I beg you… _You don't really need me – I can't tell you that much anyway." The younger wizard dropped the head in his hands and Dumbledore thought he caught a sound of a few sniffles.

"_Severus," _Dumbledore mumbled reassuringly, rearranging his hands to rub the boy's back.

Once again, the space became quiet and the old man leaned back on the wall. His kind eyes anew resting on his younger companion, the Headmaster offered: "There are two ways you can choose in life, Severus. In your age, I am afraid, we all tend to decide on the easier and shorter road to meet our goals – only to regret our picks later and turn to the longer and winding one. Azkaban, Severus, however you may think it adequate now, is not a place you should even consider hiding at. Regardless, I have seen already too many debilitated by _our – " _Dumbledore gave an unhappy sigh _"– justice _to let you do it. No –" the old man's voice became a low whisper now _"–_ not when I am guilty of your crime myself…"

Now, Snape's pained eyes shot up, their look questioning – and the old wizard sighed and closed his eyes. When he spoke up again, his voice was wistful and dreamy equally. _"The Dark magic…_ I don't think I know anything more alluring – and yet, more dangerous… You believe it is _nothing else _than a way to gain more knowledge and power… and then, when you surrender to it – " Dumbledore shuddered slightly at the memory " – you lose yourself so easily and never see it. Not until it is too late…" The old man sighed deeply. "No, Severus, you are not the first to whom it has happened – and you will be by far not the last, I fear."

Snape turned his ashamed eyes away, not wanting to hear that the man next to him was as errorable as he himself but Dumbledore simply nodded: "Oh yes, Severus, we all have been young once. I am no exception." Very softly, the old wizard added: "I tried to warn you that the might of this kind of magic is addictive… But then, I suppose, I didn't listen myself when I was told first…" He waited a bit to finish, quite certain the boy would storm out of the room – but Snape didn't move. Dumbledore gave him a gentle smile. Once again, he looked directly at the young man. "I am –" he said slowly, carefully, _"– and please don't take me wrong, my boy –_ glad you are able to see the danger now."

Severus slowly nodded, his face grave. "I can't do it, Headmaster," he repeated resolutely then, his voice firm once more. "Send me to Azkaban until it's too late."

Dumbledore took the boy's hand in his and made Snape look at him. "Precautions can be made now that you understand what you are facing, Severus. It is difficult – but not impossible – to shield yourself against the influence the dark spells may have on you. Your Occlumency can aid you greatly if you decide to continue to assist us… But _– even if you decide not to – I will not _send you to prison. I would be hesitant even if you would feel no remorse as Azkaban does more harm than good. But then, Severus, I believe that your_ crimes, _should you wish me to call them that, would better be repaid by your work... No, let us forget about Azkaban, my boy, and you tell me what has happened to bring you in such a state. In return, I promise to help you to the best of my abilities…"

When Snape failed to show any reaction, the Headmaster completely unexpectedly softly chuckled. "And, Severus, let me remind you that while my abilities are by no means unlimited, they are significant enough to allow me to offer you a helping hand… Tell me what is troubling you and let us see what may be done," the Headmaster pleaded with the young brewer, firmly holding on Snape's hand as if he wanted to anchor the young Slytherin to him.

"What happened, Severus?" Dumbledore repeated gently after a moment of silence.

Snape's dark eyes strangely glittered in the weak light falling in from the still opened doorway. "I… I can't let it happen again… Please, don't allow it," Snape said, his eyes filling.

"I _promise _to help you, my boy," Dumbledore reassured him. He left Snape some time to compose himself and then again instructed: "Tell me what happened, Severus."

The boy shivered. He swallowed, shifted his eyes up to the older wizard's gaze and swallowing once again, he finally attempted to explain: "I was summoned…," he confirmed Dumbledore's assumptions. "After the last afternoon lesson… Professor Slughorn never noticed, I assure you." Dumbledore nodded absentmindedly, for the moment interested solely in the distress of the boy sitting in front of him. Horace was besides already suspecting that Severus was at this point not interested in teaching per se – and angry with them both for pretending otherwise.

_Did you know he only has to pass one single exam to be able to take over the class, Dumbledore? Do you not think I have right to feel betrayed? …What do the two of you plot up here all the time anyway? … I strongly recommend you to bring the boy to take his exam this summer – as I am most definitely not coming back for __the next year! _Dumbledore pushed the thoughts of Horace Slughorn away for the moment – first things had to be dealt with first.

"It's very late, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, knowing that a simple summons wouldn't lead to the boy's current state and unwilling to use Legilimency at the young man he had only just brought to tentatively trust him with his very life and sanity and, possibly more importantly, with the life of his childhood friend… "How long have you been sitting out here?" the old man asked instead, solicitude creeping in his gentle voice.

"I am not sure," Snape mumbled in answer. "Rather… rather long… I think… He… _the Dark Lord,"_ the boy bit his lips, "…it has never happened before… not to this extend. … I was to… The Dark Lord requested that I... I… apply the potions I delivered... personally. It is one thing to brew them, Headmaster … but this is what makes them _really dark, _if you can understand it…" Snape's eyes were now directed straight at Dumbledore's face and the old man could almost touch the despair behind them. _You had applied them before, didn't you, Severus,_ Dumbeldore thought, _but that was back when you were too deep in it to actually care…_

"I am very sorry, my boy," Dumbledore muttered aloud, his voice truthfully saddened. Stroking his beard, Dumbledore asked thoughtfully: "Has Lord Voldemort asked you to join the raids again as well?"

Snape shook his head; then, eyes cast down, he replied quietly: "Not yet… But that won't last… not long, anyway… I don't think He would let me... out of his sight for long… not now…" _Not now that I am spying on you for him, _Dumbledore heard behind the boy's words.

"I see," the old Headmaster absentmindedly nodded and squeezed the boy's hand, his eyes unseeing and mind processing the newly given information. "I see…" Once again, he leaned on the wall. After a while, the Headmaster abruptly nodded and actually smiled. "Come, Severus," he said, offering a hand to the younger man. "I trust to have a solution that may at least partly solve our problem."

Startled, the young man let himself be lifted and guided into the Headmaster's chambers. Surprisingly and most welcomed, the usual bright light in the office was for once dulled to a level where the place worked more like a comfortable sitting-room than a place where one would deal with the school's biggest mischief-makers and unpleasant Ministry visits. Severus felt how he was flooded with seemingly ungrounded relief… and similarly unexpectedly, he sensed also how his fragile trust towards the Headmaster grew again.

ooooo

_It didn't last._ Yet again, Dumbledore asked the impossible and Snape wanted to desert the castle without uttering a single departing word. But then, when he was already standing by Dumbledore's door, Severus reminded himself that he didn't live in the castle for his sake. _Lily,_ he thought, _I will do what I have to to get you out of this mess. _He turned back to Dumbeldore, gave him a curt nod and through the tightly clenched teeth drawled: _"Yes,_ damn it!" With that he furiously slammed the door behind himself.

Dumbledore sighed and rose as well to caress Fawkes. "He has quite a temper, doesn't he?" he muttered fondly and the bird looked at him with his black corals of eyes and gave an affirmative and yet reprimand squeak.

"I know, Fawkes, _I know. _I don't ask easy things of him," the old man sighed. "But if we live through this war, both Severus and Remus may only profit from it," the man smiled sadly, painfully aware that he might as well be entirely too optimistic about things. There was no guarantee that either of the boys would survive – or that Belby would succeed in his research. With one final sigh, the old wizard turned to his bedroom; the pleasant late evening over his Muggle detective novel long forgotten.

ooooo

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Early August 1993_

Black robes angrily billowing behind him and face twisted in a hateful, ugly sneer, Severus Snape made his way into Dumbledore's office, not bothering to knock or utter a single word of greeting. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him and the Potions master briskly strode to his superior's mammoth desk; his eyes flashing daggers already at the sole sight of the old Headmaster who calmly sat behind the table, studying some officially looking missives.

When Dumbledore appeared completely unconcerned with his Potions Professor's dramatic entrée, Snape frowned even further. _"Is it true?"_ he yelled, once directly in front of the Headmaster's desk, and slammed a hand on the wooden surface. "Are you really giving Lupin – _Lupin of all people! _– the Defence position? Do you want _the wolf_ to lead Black right to Potter?"

Dumbledore looked up from his scrolls now, his face quite calm. _"Remus_ wouldn't help the man who is guilty of killing his best friends… Good afternoon to you too, Severus," he greeted and reached for another letter.

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously: "Is that _all_ you have to say to this?! You are employing _a werewolf _at a school full of underage children, Dumbledore, for heaven's sake! … Pray tell, _Headmaster,_ are you letting the parents know this _rather unimportant detail_ about your newest _Defence expert?_ Or do you – _perhaps – _wish _me_ to inform them myself?" Snape's voice was laced with deep irony.

Dumbledore looked straight at the younger wizard, his kind eyes holding a gentle reprimand. When Snape didn't react to it, the Headmaster slowly lowered the paper currently in his hand and quietly reminded: "Twelve years ago I gave a position in Hogwarts to a young man who used to brew for Lord Voldemort, Severus. People _warned me_ not to employ him but I have _never _regretted my decision." He paused here to stress his words and waited for Snape to turn his ashamed eyes back to him.

When the younger wizard reluctantly complied, the old man continued. "Now, I believe," Dumbledore said, speaking slowly, cautiously, well knowing the temper of the other man, "the time has come when this young wizard can prove himself worth of the trust I gave him all those years ago."

Snape stared at him, breathing loudly. _No, Dumbledore was not asking him that! _But the man indeed did. "Severus, you helped with Belby's research. According to Horace, Damocles Belby claims you to be one of the few wizards in the world who can brew the Wolfsbane properly. _Why not_ put your knowledge to use, my boy? … It would immensely help us… _help me."_

_You wonder that I refuse brew it for Lupin? _Snape wanted to spat furiously, leaning on the Headmaster's desk and staring directly in the old man's kind, wrinkled face. But he owed Dumbledore much, _too much_ to refuse him now. So, instead of yelling, he forced himself to give a stiff, wordless nod and he tried to will the tension from his body.

When Dumbledore saw the Potions master had won his inner fight, he smiled softly. "Thank you, Severus," the Headmaster said simply. Then, as an afterthought, he added quietly: "Please, try to be civil to the boy, can you? The last few years were difficult on him and this whole affair with Black will not help it, I fear."

Severus stood already by the door when Dumbledore finished. "I will if he does," he muttered darkly, biting his lips. Then, he reached for the doorknob, opened the door and left the room, quite quietly this time. Dumbledore sighed in relief. _This had run far better than he had let himself hope to… _

ooooo

The sun forced its way through the windows of the Headmaster's office then and something glittered silvery on one of the shelves behind the man's back. The unexpected dazzling drawing his eyes, Dumbledore turned around to find his Pensieve sitting in a pool of reflected light just behind him. Earlier that week, as he was trying to figure out how to bring the news to Snape with as little damage possible, Dumbledore had filled the basin with memories of Snape's first year teaching.

When he now – still vividly – recalled the discussion the two of them had had on the issue of werewolves and the Wolfsbane back then, the Headmaster knew that the today's row with Severus was a joke. _Were they both getting older and simultaneously less inclined to heated discussions? _He rather doubted it with Severus in his mid-thirties – but then, the boy had changed over the years. And while Dumbledore had even today clearly heard the hatred towards Remus Lupin behind Snape's heated words, Severus obviously cared for the well-being of the students more – including, or maybe in the first place, the _Lily's brat_ as he insisted on calling Harry.

_Oh yes, __it was a rather excellent choice to employ the boy here and install him for the Head of Slytherin, however fool his mood sometimes was, _Dumbledore thought with a satisfied little smile playing around his lips.

The Headmaster reached for the Pensieve to put the memories back where they belonged. But before he could start to pull the memories out, he looked at the bowl's surface one last time. Severus Snape's younger face appeared and Dumbledore could hear the boy once again shouting at him in this very office… It was just after he had guided his distressed protégé out of the antechamber of his office and offered him a cup of tea and a way to spend more time out of Lord Voldemort's reach. Sadly, Severus wasn't very impressed with neither of his offers...

"_I apprenticed with Belby because of his old research on Vanishing Sickness, Dumbledore! What makes you think I would be _the slightest _interested in helping him create the werewolves elixir!? Do you really believe that people such as Fenrir Greyback would willingly drink it anyway? Don't be a fool, Headmaster; they are much happier when slicing people's throats out!"_

_Back then, Dumbledore looked at the young man and calmly opposed: "Not people like Remus Lupin, Severus."_

"_Oh, and you think me interested in helping that particular werewolf? Dumbledore, I don't think I quite get you! _It was Lupin_ who almost sliced out _my own throat_ in the case you have forgotten!"_

"_My memory of that day is still quite intact, Severus. It was Sirius Black's foolish act only. Remus Lupin was as much a victim there as you," the Headmaster corrected the younger man, almost wishing to return back to sitting in the quiet staircase next to the distraught Severus as they had just moments ago. But that wouldn't be any solution and he wanted Severus to understand it as well._

_He decided to play on a safe card. "Severus, I want you to have a valid reason why not to join the raids. It wouldn't work very well if you were captured during one of them, I fear, even if there weren't other causes why I would prefer you not to participate in them. Therefore, I make this my first command to you as an upcoming member of the Order of Phoenix." He chuckled at Severus's bewildered expression. _

"_You really call it that?" Snape stammered in disbelief, their argument for the moment forgotten. _

"_I do, indeed," Dumbledore smiled again and Fawkes flew over to his shoulder, beaming proudly. _

_Snape shook his head. "And to think I didn't trust the Dark Lord on this," he whispered. _

_Dumbledore chuckled once more. "I believe you will make an excellent addition to it, Severus. We shall deal with that soon enough. Now, however, we need to return to Damocles Belby and his offer to you…" _

_Snape frown__ed but forced himself to stay calm for the time being. Dumbledore nodded in approval. "I was _very pleasantly _surprised when Horace informed me you have almost completed your apprenticeship at St. Mungo's," the Headmaster said, apparently not interested in any explanation as to why Snape hadn't told him about his uncompleted Master course before. "This will immensely simplify the question of your continuous employment in Hogwarts, my boy. Belby may be young but he has made himself a very good name indeed. It is an honour for us to employ one of his best apprentices – _as I am told_ – at Hogwarts." The old man smiled kindly. "I am sure the Bord of Governors wouldn't object to your permanent installment in Horace's place now either."_

_Snape nodded, somewhat calmed; then however the young man's face showed another deep frown. "I never told _Him_ that I didn't pass the exam," Severus muttered. _

_Dumbledore __gave an understanding nod. "It was scheduled around the time you decided to come to me, wasn't it?" he asked quietly, already knowing the answer._

_The boy looked at him with slight surprise first but then simply said: "I met Lily and her son in the hospital that day." _

"_I see." Dumbledore did indeed. So this was the trigger, he thought, quite satisfied to finally know that piece of the puzzle. _

_The Headmaster returned to the werewolves' research then, careful about his choice of words. "Severus, _I would appreciate _if you would not interrupt me." When Snape somewhat reluctantly nodded, Dumbledore brightly smiled with his usual benevolence and started a long tirade at which end he hoped the boy would not only be willing to comply to his orders but would also understand why it was so crucial to do so. _

"_I am sure you are well aware that Professor Slughorn wishes to retire," the Headmaster said for the start. "You are probably also not unfamiliar with the fact you wouldn't be his first choice of replacement. This is why he treats you less enthusiastically than you normally could expect as one of his star pupils." _

_Snape smirked at this, quite sarcastically – _less enthusiastically _was an understatement. Yet, he didn't need any approval from the old man… Here, however, Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't think you quite understand Horace Slughorn and his power, Severus. If the two of you would settle your differences, you would have on your side not only Horace himself but also many of his past pupils – what would help you with the Bord of Governors now and later, if necessary, at any possible trial you may have to stand." Severus scowled, clearly not wanting to think about what would happen after the war but he remained silent and Dumbledore continued. _

"_When Belby praised you yesterday, Horace was perhaps startled but I wouldn't describe him as surprised that you managed to pass the Mastery course in the speed you had. You see, Severus, Horace may be prejudiced against you but he is not blind. He included you to his Slug Club no matter where you had come from and he continued to invite you to his soirées despite your – forgive me to describe them as such – not particularly entertaining manners." Dumbledore spoke slowly, carefully selecting his words so that he wouldn't enrage the younger man. When Snape didn't react here, the Headmaster smiled in relief before going on. _

"_Horace __counted you to his most talented pupils when you were still a student here. Then, however, the rumours about you joining Lord Voldemort reminded him of his previous great misjudgment…" When Severus curiously looked at him here, Dumbledore raised his hand in excuse. It was really too late to start that story now – and there he wasn't even sure Snape should know the particularities of it. "Not today, Severus," he said therefore. "For tonight, it shall suffice to say that Voldemort was Horace's pupil as much as mine some decades ago and you – again, I ask you to forgive me to say it this plainly – seemed to walk much the same way as he had done. _

_Now, you return here on my insistent as his supporting teacher and Horace finds out about your discontinued apprenticeship." Dumbledore paused to stress his next words, pleased that he hadn't been interrupted yet. "I believe that he doesn't feel himself obliged to stay here any longer since you have practically finished your studies and hence the Bord shall be affirmative to appoint you as a regular teacher no matter your low age. Next to it, Severus, you apprenticed with Belby and had you completed your studies with him, Horace would have had another precious addition to his collection of influential and famous pupils. He values both the categories; make no mistake there!" _

_Snape smirked, clearly doubtful, but didn't say anything. Dumbledore smiled in approval and continued: "This said, you are guilty of two crimes in Horace's eyes – you force him to stay here when you easily could free him right now and you discontinued one of the most promising apprenticeships his pupils ever had. So much to Professor Slughorn's current behavior towards you." Dumbledore briefly stopped and rearranged his hands. _

"_Now, what the two of us spoke about yesterday night. Horace __–" Snape grimaced slightly at Dumbledore's words, still not accustomed to use or even hear his Professors' given names on regular basis. "– visited St. Mungo's and spoke with Damocles Belby. He is _very _impressed with the werewolves' research Belby works on. I admit to be intrigued myself – however, my motivations to ask you to join him in it are rather different than Horace's, even if I hope you would be able to pass your Master exams this summer as much as Horace does." Dumbledore offered a small smile. _

"_Now, your involvement in Belby's research would be of several advantages for us," the Headmaster continued, hoping Snape would accept his reasoning and follow his lead without much protest. "Your participating in Belby's studies would for some people count as an open declaration of your fight against Lord Voldemort. That may again prove useful should you ever stand a trial. Also, unlike your original research – that is by now at any rate completed if I understand things correctly – taking part in this project will require from you spending lengthier periods of time in St. Mungo's and that together with your teaching and brewing here would mean very few time for joining the Death Eaters' – for lack of better words – _entertainment."

_Snape sneered at the choice of the word. Entertainment, indeed. Only not for him. But then something else occurred to him and he muttered: __"…while the Dark Lord would greatly welcome to have a spy providing him with information on the werewolves' research, to possibly get a chance to control his wolves more easily in the future." Snape sighed, almost resigned, if clearly still not liking the idea. _

"_Yes, indeed," Dumbledore nodded, eyeing him expectantly, knowing well Snape's aversion to the leader of Voldemort's werewolves pack. "I do not think that you would currently approve of my hope to help people as Remus Lupin hereby too but let me remind you that particularly Remus is only one of Fenrir Greyback's unfortunate victims," he finished softly, using the opportune moment. _

_Looking straight in the boy's clouded eyes then, Dumbledore asked his final question: "This all considered – will you take the offer Belby made you, Severus?" Once told where his apprentice had disappeared to, Damocles Belby had sent Severus a message via his old teacher and Slughorn was only too happy to share it with Dumbledore first. It consisted of an offer to arrange a new examination date as well as an invitation to participate in the werewolves' research now that it was finally acknowledged and financed by the Ministry._

_Severus bit his lips, hard._ Damn, damn, damn,_ he swore and wanted to kick something._ "Yes, damn it!" _he cried finally, forcing himself to think of Lily. His previous distress long forgotten, Snape walked out of the door next and once out, he slammed it shut._

The present Dumbledore sighed and dripped his wand in the silvery mist. A moment later he drew the memory out and replaced it in his head, hoping that Severus would once again keep his promises... however reluctantly and with as many sneers as he pleased.

Several months later, it was clear that the young wizard stood to his word – but Dumbledore had clearly forgotten that one of the promises Snape had made to him through the years had included a threat to reveal Remus Lupin's secret when the werewolf once again endangered a Hogwarts student.

ooooo

_Let me know if you liked it! (-:_


	16. The Best Laid Plans

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 16: The Best Laid Plans**

_A/N: Very guilty still about not waiting for a time when my beta will have time for going over this. I explained the reasons in my previous chapter's A/N – let's add only that the final part of my PhD studies requires of me to spend longer time abroad and I really don't know how I would be able to finish this fic otherwise._

_I would like to remind you that I am not a native speaker of English. _

_Enjoy. (-: _

ooooo

_Hogwarts, Headmaster's Suite_

_June 1981_

Their Occlumency session for that night over, Snape sat, fairly exhausted, on one of Dumbledore's chairs, sipping on his cooling tea and staring in the flickering flames of the fireplace while waiting for the old man's return from casting Peeves from the Infirmary. Madam Pomfrey had been quite insistent that the Headmaster did so quickly since the Poltergeist had kept rummaging in her supply cupboards and she had strongly suspected him of mixing up the labels next to the occasional shattering of a flask or two that she would have been more inclined to oversee.

Dumbledore had demanded that the young Slytherin waited for him, although Severus had no idea why he was to wait. The old man had pronounced their session over well before the nurse had Firecalled and it seemed to Snape that the only thing left the Headmaster had been up to with him for that evening was a chatter over the steaming cups – on the topic of the Dark Lord's and the Death Eaters' plans, surely, but nothing pressing since Severus hadn't been Summoned for several days now and didn't think to have anything new to report about.

As Snape waited, the Dark Mark tingled on his arm and then hurt with a sudden Summons. Badly surprised, Severus dropped his cup, the remaining tea leaving a wet yellowish mark where it had splattered on Dumbledore's carpet. _"Damn," _Snape swore, fishing for his wand to clean up the mess, while Occluding so that he would be able to leave immediately after he had finished. Yet, as he was charming the carpet clean, the Summons abruptly stopped and Severus pulled his sleeve back to stare at the fading dark. "Damn," he repeated quietly and faintly sat back down, no longer bothering with the shreds and splattered liquid. _This could be bad,_ he thought and shuddered with sudden fear, unconsciously clutching on his left arm.

That was how Dumbledore found his protégé several minutes later when he finally returned to his tower. Taking in the sight of Severus's deeply troubled face and the tight grip the young man had on his arm, the Headmaster's eyes widened slightly, an expression he knew to suppress fast.

"You shouldn't have waited, Severus, if you were Summoned. I though we were clear about that," Dumbledore sighed softly, approaching Snape's seat.

"I… I wasn't. Summoned, I mean," Snape said incoherently, his eyes still absently staring at his left arm.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "But your Mark hurts?" He asked carefully, eyeing the limb himself, not really privy with the ways the dark tattoo worked.

Snape gave a single nod, not bothering to answer vocally. Dumbledore understood that the fact disturbed his young employee greatly.

"What could it hurting mean otherwise?" The Headmaster took a chair next to Snape and carefully pulled Snape's arm closer to inspect the fading black.

Snape shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted quietly, his eyes finally meeting Dumbledore's concerned gaze. "It may be just a reminder that I was to take part in tonight's gathering and me asking to be excused for your function was acknowledged but shall not be tolerated in the future… It can be anything else as easily, however," Snape finished with pretended indifference, his Occlumency assisting him to mask his fear.

"I see." Dumbledore nodded, letting go of Snape's arm and rising to help himself to a drink. No tea, this time, mind you. Comfortably seated in his own armchair across the desk, the old man took a deep sip of the dark amber liquid and then leaned back, closing his eyes.

Just as Snape started to think the aged wizard drifted off, Dumbledore, his eyes still shut, inquired: "What exactly have you said to Lord Voldemort when I asked you to make an excuse to not participate in the raids until we were sure your Occlumency could protect you from the seduction of the Dark Arts, Severus?"

Snape gazed at him warily but answered without delay: "That you suspect my turn was not genuine and wish to keep a close eye on me for the time being – insisting that I joined you for these sessions until you were surer of me. That it is also the reason why I have to_ subsist_in the Dungeons with Slughorn rather than teaching _the Dark Arts_and gaining more followers for him," Snape trailed off here but shortly after, his eyes blazing in sudden fury, he continued in a hiss: "That you forced me to participate in that _damned Werewolves' project_of Belby's – so that I could be supervised more easily. _Taming a Death Eater, _indeed."

Dumbledore was not fazed with the last part. He knew well Snape hadn't joined Belby's project willingly – but it really gave them just the excuses they needed. The old man realized also that as averse as Snape was joining the research group, the young Potions maker wouldn't harm its work. Being the committed scholar he was, the boy would rather – if grudgingly – greatly contribute to their labor. Unless – _unless_ he needed to undermine the project because _the other side_ wished so and he needed to stay on their good side as much as or possibly more than his.

"Severus," Dumbledore demanded thus, "could the _Summons_be also a reminder of something else? Such as a memento of Lord Voldemort's wishes for the Werewolves' potion research?"

Snape's gaze shot up. _Yes, damn it!_– had it not been postponed, the meeting with the Ministry Dark Creatures Committee had been planned for tonight and he and Dumbledore were only taking advantage of its rescheduling when meeting for their latest Occlumency session.

"That could very well be the reason," Severus nodded slowly and, the worry subsiding in him, he mirrored Dumbledore in comfortably leaning back in the red padding of his chair.

The Headmaster was put off with his reaction. _So, Voldemort asks Snape to ruin the project and the boy neither informs him, nor feels any regret about lying to him?_ He shuddered. _Could he really have been deceived so easily? Just because he was fond of the boy? _His insides boiling with sudden anger, Dumbledore wanted to slap Snape's smiling face hard; he desired to force the truth out of the _damned cheat_ of a boy…

Fawkes must have felt his master's turmoil, as the bird flew over to him and landed on his lap just when the Headmaster was about to jump up and shake the boy to confess. The presence of his Phoenix calming him somewhat, Dumbledore didn't react just yet, absentmindedly raising his wrinkled hand to caress the bird's bright plumage as the Phoenix sang a few soothing tones for him.

The song reminded Dumbledore of another evening he had recently spent with Snape here in the office and the Burning-Day Phoenix Patronus the boy had shown him then, the form of the guard greatly surprising them both. The young man couldn't be untrue if being able to produce such an amazing guard – no amount of Occlumency would have been able to assist him in covering his dark core then. Dumbledore sighed in relief, scratching his Phoenix's head in gratitude. _Yes, Fawkes too trusted the boy,_ he recalled, his worries eased.

"Care to explain your reaction, Severus?" the old man mumbled, for an outside observer fully occupied with his Phoenix. Except Snape knew better after their numerous Occlumency sessions and raised a curious eyebrow. Holding his employer with a questioning gaze, the young wizard suddenly understood and the recognition pained him no matter how fast he was able to cover the feeling.

Instead of saying anything on that topic, however, Snape emotionlessly clarified: "The Dark Lord is even more _obsessed_ with the idea of controlling the Werewolves than you, Headmaster. He _encouraged me _to join the research and I am to regularly inform him of the results. Fenrir Greyback is to promise his new recruits a cure if they join the fold now."

The Phoenix's presence no longer able to comfort him, Dumbledore jumped up at this calm statement, Fawkes flying off with an unhappy squeak. "You realize this is vital information for the Order, Severus, don't you?" Dumbledore snapped angrily, rapidly approaching the Fireplace and reaching for the Floo Powder can on the mantle. Before he could toss the Powder in the flames, the Headmaster turned once more to Snape, his face extremely displeased. "I won't have this again, _do you understand me,_ _young man?_ _You are not to withhold information of this gravity!_ I would be _keen on _hearing just what lead you to the thought of not sharing this piece of information with me until now but I need to leave right away." Dumbledore's voice turned exceedingly sarcastic.

Severus nodded his understanding, his face ashamed. Then however, as the old man had already tossed the powder into the flames and was about to name the location, he said quietly, hesitantly: "It was the night the Bones' house was raided." With that Snape rose and turned to the door, desiring nothing else than to disappear from the room and hide in the dungeons.

Dumbledore remained very quiet as the young man who still seemed merely a boy to him walked to the room's threshold, his destination left unpronounced. _No, not that evening, _the Headmaster shook his head sorrowfully. Snape was made a full Death Eater that very day – a reward for his latest accomplishments at Hogwarts; the _promotion_ accompanied with the new right and _honour _to participate in the collective festive executions. Dumbledore shuddered – yet another thing he felt personally accountable for.

Snape was about to open the door and leave, when a hesitant voice touched his ears. "I am very sorry, Severus. _Forgive me, if you can," _Dumbledore said, genuine remorse plain in his voice and Snape halted and swallowed the threatening emotions. Wordlessly, he nodded his understanding and Dumbledore whispered a grateful: "Thank you." to his back. With that, the Headmaster turned back to the fireplace and commanded "Headquarters," reluctant to lose any more time. The activated grate roared behind Snape's back; the unexpected apology leaving the young man paralyzed. Only when the sound of the Floo receeded, he opened the door and left the room, not being any wiser as to where the older man had left to, except it being the place where the Order of the Phoenix probably met.

ooooo

The following day Dumbledore chose to sit next to Snape at breakfast. Before the younger man could start to wonder about that (the two of them rarely spoke to each other in the open those days, both exceedingly cautious not to be overheard), Dumbledore dropped an envelope fabricated from expensive, extremely thin parchment on the table in front of him.

Snape pushed the missive aside for the time-being, pretending disinterest while finishing his roll and coffee. Only then he reached his hand over and broke the seal on the letter. Inside he found an invite to a festive Ministry gathering addressed to _Professor Severus Snape, Potions Department, Hogwarts._ He curiously eyed the Headmaster. "The research?" he asked quietly, keeping the interest out of his voice as best as he could.

Dumbledore gave an almost imperceptible nod. "I intended to hand it to you yesterday evening but I meant to ask you what would be the likely reaction of _certain parties_ first."

_So this was why he was to wait. _Snape nodded in understanding. _And Dumbledore received his answer without even asking. _"I will be there," Snape promised, clearly not very happy about the prospect, and stood, the invitation safely tucked away in one of his pockets.

"Good day to you, Professor," Severus murmured and left for his first class, not noticing the yearning look Slughorn was giving his back. When the younger man was out of the Hall, Slughorn promptly got to his feet and swiftly approached Dumbledore. "So he will do it, correct?" the man asked for confirmation, already contentedly smiling in the view of the commendation he would receive from the Ministry for getting them one of the most accomplished brewers of their time.

"Yes, Horace, Severus shall join Belby. Now, if you excuse me, I have a meeting in London." Dumbledore made his leave, not really wanting to listen to Slughorn's inevitable enthusiastic babble.

"Certainly, certainly, Albus," Slughorn said and deeply satisfied watched the Headmaster's retreating form. Snape covering his classes for that morning, the old Potions Master decided a trip to the Diagon Alley would be in order. He had an order to make.

ooooo

_Voldemort's Lair_

_July 1981_

Leaving the safe grounds of the school behind him, Snape forced himself not to longingly look back at the castle bathed – _as if in some sickening irony! _he thought, disgusted – in the last rays of the setting sun. The gate he had walked out moments ago was once more locked; protected by all the enchantments Dumbledore had felt necessary to add to Hogwart's own protective magic and Severus was on his own now – as so many times before. Yet, schoolboys' grudges and genuine submission to the Darkness were so very much different from this! Spying on the Dark Lord would always be dangerous and he was not able to imagine a single moment when he would enjoy it.

The Dark Mark burnt on his arm again, quite vehemently, and its burning instantly interrupted Snape's musings. Severus knew that the Dark Lord was becoming increasingly impatient with him and his late coming fellows. The young wizard spared another precious moment to Occlude, took a deep breath and hesitantly touched the fevered flesh of his forearm.

With the contact, the Mark became alive beneath his hand and Severus felt how he was being pulled to the Dark Lord by its might. One last time forcing his anxiety and fear deep beneath the surface of his consciousness, Snape at last Apparated, letting the Dark Mark lead his way.

Moments later, he stood on a windy hill behind a large, battered-looking manor house; judging by the intense smell of salt not far from the seashore. The place looked vacated and fairly remote, the early night not being disturbed by any light for miles. _Ideal location for a gathering,_ Severus nodded in approval, right away disgusted with his initial reaction. _Get hold on yourself, Snape, this is no longer your side!_ Severus berated himself and taking a deep breath, he started up the hill towards the building.

Almost there, he thought to hear a soft swirl of fabric, whispering over the dry summer grass of the hill right behind his back. Immediately wary, he turned speedy around, reading his wand in the process so that he could strike right away if necessary – but the Apparating person wore the same black robes and mask as he and undoubtedly also bored the Dark Mark as Snape's own arm tingled in recognition.

_"Late again, _Snape? _… I fear, _He will not be pleased with you this time." Bellatrix Lestrange drawled, throwing back her hood and presenting her own bare wand. _"How I hope _I will be the one allowed to punish your tardiness!" the witch hissed, coming closer to him, her eyes madly gleaming in some twisted expectation. Finally, she stood right in front of him and pointed her wand at his chest. Snape had his own wand still in his hand but debated with himself if it was wise to point it at the woman whom he knew to be the Dark Lord's current favourite.

"Dumbledore's lapdog now, Snape?" Bellatrix continued to mock him; her voice sickened with the sole thought. "For that is how it appears to us, you see?" she continued in a dangerous whisper, toying with her wand."Not that you _ever _bored any true passion for it – but refusing to take part in the raids so that the _old Bumblebee_ won't become suspicious??? As if anyone would believe that our _superb potions master _and _first-rate Occlumens _wouldn't be able to find a way around it! Trust me, Snape, that _really_ wasn't a clever move to make."

Snape wanted to snarl his own insult in her face but the grass echoed beneath another Apparation and both Bellatrix and Snape rapidly turned around, their wands now stimulatingly pointed at the same spot. _"Friend or foe?" _Bellatrix barked in the night, her voice menacing, and Snape once again felt his Mark tingling as a fellow Death Eater let himself be recognized. Rabastan Lestrange stepped out of the shadows shortly after and Bellatrix nodded at him in greeting, lowering her wand as she turned to the manor and waved her hand towards it. "The Dark Lord is awaiting our messages, _brother._ I trust you have as appealing news for him as I do."

Loosing her interest in Snape, Bellatrix leaned a little bit too familiar on her brother-in-law's arm. With Snape following closely behind them, they briskly approached the house.

ooooo

_"Tonight, then," _Voldemort nodded with a cruel smile an hour later and comfortably leaned back in his chair. "But first, Bellatrix, _come over here!" _The Dark Lord motioned for her to stand and take place on his side. Bellatrix's lips quirked up and she pointedly looked at Snape as she was walking around him. _You will scream,_ she mouthed.

Lucius watched his retreating sister-in-law with narrowed eyes from his place next to Severus's seat. _"I warned you _she was dangerous," he hissed in Snape's direction. "No more of that I-cannot-join-the-raids nonsense tonight, do you hear me?" Snape gave a barely visible nod while reinforcing his mental barriers.

"Dear Bellatrix was so kind as to provide us with an _opening amusement." _The Dark Lord's lips twisted in vicious humour and the man pulled Bellatrix's hand in his. His long fingers caressed the top of her hand and then firmly and perhaps too tightly closed around it. Bellatrix looked at the Dark Lord in slight alarm, Severus noticed, but Voldemort finally decided to merely raise her hand to his lips and kiss it, erecting hereby a triumphant smile on Bellatrix's face.

Voldemort nodded at this, apparently satisfied with her reaction, and continued in a low, yet perfectly audible voice. "And not only that – she was also _so generous," _Voldemort looked up at Bellatrix, her hand still resting in his, and his eyes suddenly narrowed in mistrust. He had to squeeze her hand rather strong then as she painfully gasped – but the man continued as if nothing had happened, "as to give up her right on the first torture in favour of our -," Voldemort's voice died out and he ran his eyes over the assembled Death Eaters, many of them looking delighted with the prospect – and abruptly stopping on Snape's indifferent face, "- _dear Severus." _Voldemort finished and Snape felt how the man's cruel eyes scrutinized him, their usual dark colour suddenly adopting a red glint.

"Bring the surprise in, Bella! Snape, advance!" Voldemort ordered after a moment of dead silence, the Dark Lord's voice harsh and his red gaze intimidating and Bella seemed only too relieved that the wizard released her hand to Severus's eyes.

"Be careful," Lucius hissed, briefly touching Snape's arm as the younger man got up. Severus didn't answer vocally but as he walked to the front of the room, his steps closely followed by the curious glances of the other men around the table, many of them pondering his possible sins, he again reinforced his mental barriers. _"My Lord,"_ he bowed his head respectfully as he reached the dark magician's seat, "what are your orders?"

_"Patience, _Snape, you will know soon enough… _Now, look at me!"_Severus looked up and their eyes joined – the emotionless obsidian black meeting the cruel red. Snape felt the forceful probing of his mind and offered what he thought Voldemort looked for – cautiously chosen glimpses of his latest gatherings with Dumbledore and what he thought were members of the Order. The intrusion was particularly painful and Snape could tell that the Dark Lord distrusted him. Yet, before he had a chance to find any traitorous thought, Voldemort suddenly released Snape's mind as if he had lost every interest in Snape's loyalty. Severus found himself facing the dark wizard's unexpectedly satisfied face, anxious for not understanding what had pleased the other man so much.

_"Oh yes,"_ his companion whispered finally, lowering himself back onto his seat, "you will like _the surprise _we have prepared for you, Snape." Voldemort looked at the door Bellatrix had disappeared behind and made himself comfortable in his chair. _"Now, _Bellatrix!" he drawled lazily and Severus felt how the red eyes fell on him, thirsty for his reaction. He braced himself, his hand prepared to fish for his wand and he hoping that whatever spells he would need to cast, his Occlumency would hold the seductive might of the Dark Magic on the base.

ooooo

At the end it was however not the Dark Magic he needed to cast that troubled him the most. _No, by far not._ It was the victim Bellatrix had captured for their, _no his _– as she claimed – enjoyment. He had met the man twice in Dumbledore's tower; once they had even briefly spoken together – and from what Dumbledore had said and he had foolishly let the Dark Lord view just a few moments ago, the man, _Caradoc Dearborn,_was an important member of the Order and, sadly, also Dumbledore's friend.

"Accept my little contribution to our Lord's reward for your faithful service, _Severus." _His name tasted as poison from Bellatrix Lestrange's lips and Severus frowned at her – the scowl luckily reliably covering his anxiety when Bellatrix threw the already badly beaten man in the room and Dearborn looked directly at him.

Snape fought his urge to leave the hall and hide before Dearborn's suddenly suspicious eyes that were so very much worse than all the looks of the unfamiliar victims he or the other Death Eaters had tortured or killed. Instead, well aware of all the pitiless eyes hanging on him, Severus drawled: "Caradoc Dearborn, right? What a _pleasant surprise…_ and _what a loss for the Order!" _Snape swallowed his bile and turned to Voldemort, his features taking on a calm and obedient look. "Your orders, my Lord?" he asked, bowing his head.

"First -," Voldemort looked at the battered form that now hatefully eyed Snape's back from the ground and apparently wasn't any more comfortable about the term _first _than Snape but still voiced it, "torture, Severus. _Begin!"_

Snape slowly turned around and drew the prepared wand. _Levicorpus, _he though and then incanted a silent _Sectum Sempra, _carefully choosing the places where he let his spell cut so that the man didn't die on him. Dearborn's blood dripped towards the ground in small streams when Severus finally turned away, waving his wand behind him and finishing with _Liberacorpus. _Disgusted with himself – and yet, strangely pleased as the Dark Magic had taken over his mind for several moments during his act and he had almost submitted to it – Snape retreated to the side and listened to Voldemort as he chose the Death Eaters who were to torture the man next. Severus wearily ran a hand over his eyes – not particularly willing to turn and watch the rest of the execution. But the self-preservation kicked in and he turned and looked at the bloody theatre with the others, his stomach rebelling over each new painful scream.

Finally, the screams ebbed and the tortured man fell unconscious to the ground – shortly before managing to curse Severus for his betrayal _of a man who had unconditionally trusted him. _Voldemort didn't hide his amusement over the words and for a change almost affectionally nodded at Severus in approval, the act not improving Snape's mood in the slightest.

Bellatrix kicked Dearborn's body, earning herself a soft moan. "Still alive," she remarked unnecessary in her usual hateful, icy voice and Voldemort scowled at that. "Finish him," he ordered harshly and they all raised their wands.

_"Avada Kedavra!" _sounded from all corners of the room and numerous green rays including one from Snape's wand hit the bloodied body. Bellatrix kicked it once again and now the body turned and revealed the face with wide-open, lifeless eyes. _"My Lord?"_ Bellatrix asked for an affirmation that she was allowed to play with the body and the man nodded. "Amuse yourself, Bellatrix – _but be fast._ We have to be off to Liverpool in a moment."

ooooo

_A review for the author? (-:_


	17. St Mungo's

**1981**

**by Iva1201**

**Chapter 17: St. Mungo's**

_A/N: I'm writing this much slower than I would like to. )-: For those of you who have been with me from the start of this story (or longer than a couple of months anyway), and haven't read the previous chapters recently, this chapter (in its middle part) is directly connected to the memories Voldemort sees in Snape's mind in the final part of chapter 5 of "1981." _

_Please, enjoy and __review!_

_Not beta read (I've just published a fic in GWTW universe and didn't want you to think I forgot about you (-:). Please, bear with my non-native speaker's mistakes._

ooooo

_St. Mungo's_

_Director Bottomley's office_

_June 1980_

"Let me get this straight, Damocles," the grey-haired head of St. Mungo's Research and Study Department spoke slowly, the usually kind voice strict – as if Damocles were still his student and not one of the most promising and best paid researchers the hospital currently disposed with. "You ask me to open a new examination date for this wonder-student of yours so that the boy could join your werewolves' project despite he –_ for whatever reason _– didn't appear by his original examination and more importantly didn't excuse himself until a couple of weeks ago._ Is that right?"_

Damocles Belby swallowed. This was not running as he had intended. A week ago, he had assured Horace Slughorn that arranging a new examination date for Mr. Snape so that the boy could join his project already during the upcoming summer months would be fairly easy. The werewolves' research was after all greatly supported by the Ministry. Yet, as Damocles now understood from his superior's reaction, the Ministry might be interested in his success and finance his efforts all they liked but St. Mungo's Research and Study Department obviously hadn't taken the project for theirs.

"I would appreciate your help very much, Director Bottomley," Belby carefully confirmed his request, hoping that the older man would aid him in the end.

Bottomley looked at him and nodded – sadly in understanding rather than agreement. "You know, Damocles," he said, "I realize that this project is very important to you. Many years ago, I too was thirty-five, you see, and wanted to impress the whole world with my accomplishments. But, my dear Damocles, as important as this project might be to you and as much as it might help the werewolves one day, the Ministry currently wants us to create _a weapon_ for them, _not a cure._ Keep that on mind! I have to admit that this little fact troubles me a lot – we are a hospital and are supposed to heal people, not make them more easily manageable for the Ministry. And no, I don't see a big difference between "normal people" and werewolves here." Bottomley was satisfied to see the uneasy expression forming on Belby's face. Perhaps Damocles would help him after all.

"I will give you the boy if you and Horace Slughorn -" Bottomley had to smile at Belby's shocked reaction,"- oh yes, I am aware _the spider_ is behind this, Damocles. I know you wouldn't have approached me otherwise – in a couple of years, perhaps, but not yet. Anyway, you may have the boy if both you and Slughorn think him so capable – if he passes the examination, certainly – but I have a request in return." Bottomley stopped here, one last time weighting his employee's trustfulness.

The risk seemed tolerable and so he went softly on: "Despite the Ministry contract doesn't foresee that and quite likely even forbids such thing, I want you to bring me all your results before you hand them over to the Ministry, Damocles – as you would do if your research were St. Mungo's own project. We cannot afford to hand over a weapon that might harm innocent people, werewolves or not." Since he foresaw argument, Bottomley quickly added: "Quite honestly, Damocles, I wouldn't trust my own judgment if I were in your place. What do you say? Are we agreed?" He eyed Belby expectantly.

Damocles wanted to say that he was mature enough not to give the Ministry anything too dangerous, but finally swallowed his protest. Bottomley was almost ninety and likely knew what he spoke about – Belby had thankfully been brought up to respect his elders and their longer experience. He thought about the offered exchange. If he complied with Bottomley's request, he would risk wrath of some Ministry official, true – but wouldn't be sacked if his results were good. He would also remain on good terms with both his superior and Horace Slughorn and would get Snape's assistance. Put like that there wasn't much to think about. "I shall do it," Belby nodded in affirmation and was rewarded with a fatherly smile from the other man.

"Excellent," Bottomley said and leaned back in his chair, relaxing. As an afterthought, he asked: "Just out of curiosity, Damocles, what is the name of that wonder-boy you want so badly? Do I know him?"

"Severus Snape, Director Bottomley. He worked for Vanishing Sickness ward during his time here. His mother underwent one of the late experimental cures in 60s – and despite she had died some two or three years ago, he worked on improving the formula. Had he passed his examination, his paper would have been published as appendix of my own study on Vanishing Sickness. Like this, we sadly had to leave his results out..."

"Yes, the rules forbidding the undergraduates to publish," Bottomley nodded in understanding, successfully covering his shock over knowing the boy's name and his mother's case. "They too are meant to protect the hospital, although this rule should probably not be applied when the results of the student are part of his Master's project. I am sorry that I wasn't able to look at any of your students' papers in the past year, Damocles, or finance a students' results' publication but the war and the many old and unknown curses used these days are sadly taking almost all my time as you know well."

The old man gazed at the clock. "Even our half hour is almost over. Send me that boy's paper up and I shall look at it in the evening. Margaret won't like it if I bring my work home again, but the dinner is the only free time I have these days. If the paper is good, I will arrange the examination for next Friday late afternoon. That's likely the only time I would be able to get the committee together."

_Next week? _Belby wondered about the swiftness but nodded. Snape was prepared and he wanted him already for the start of the project in early July. He thanked the old man and left the office to return to his laboratory. Snape's paper was prepared on his table there and gazing at it, Damocles was once more astonished at the boy's competency. He packed the paper in an envelope and send it upstairs. It wasn't normal that the head of the department wanted to see a student's paper before the examination, the results of the student's research being usually introduced during the exam itself. Damocles thought that Bottomley might probably not be present by the whole examination in the current situation and wanted to get familiar with the examined student's work so that he too could grade him.

Upstairs, Director Bottomley impatiently packed out the delivered paper and searched for the dedication. He indeed intended to learn more about this particular student's research, although his true motivation would probably startle his young employee. Then Bottomley found it: _To my mother, Eileen Snape, née Prince, so that nobody has to suffer your pain again. _Bottomley caressed the name of the deceased woman and nodded. Her son had earned the special attention he was getting.

ooooo

_Spinner's End_

_Late August – Early September 1967_

It had been ten days since father left and mum locked herself up in the bedroom, coming out only at the meal times to mechanically prepare food for him, her eyes permanently puffy from the endless crying. Once the meal was over and the dishes were cleaned up, mum would immediately shut herself upstairs again, once more leaving Severus to himself.

Despite he was only seven, Severus soon understood that father was not coming back – and mother was upset with both the man and him. _Him_ sadly undoubtedly more because if it were not for his stupid shattering the windows, father would still be there – and mum still happy.

Even now, Severus didn't understand what had happened that day. He recalled only that the thief who had broken into the house had made him very scared and upset. Then Severus had suddenly felt too hot and everything became gloomy. Very vaguely Severus evoked a loud shattering noise followed by a flood of glass pieces that had covered all the floor – but it all was very unclear.

Father had said later that it had been him who had made the glass shatter – but Severus didn't know how that would be possible. Unless – _unless,_ _he was_ indeed _the monster_ father had accused him of being. Huddled in the corner of the kitchen, the small boy shuddered at the thought, pulling his knees tightly to the chest in a feeble attempt to soothe himself. With father gone and mum so sad, there was nobody to aid him out of his misery. Hours later, the little boy climbed up the stairs to cry himself to sleep in his cold and dark bedroom – wishing to be dead.

When he woke up rather alive the next morning, Severus decided that he hated the world, loathed it with all his small being. He turned to the side, burying himself leastways beneath the warm heap of blankets and attempted to fall asleep again. There was no point in staying awake for him anyway. Drifting off, Severus distantly heard mum's tired voice calling him to breakfast but he couldn't care less.

Downstairs, Eileen was growing increasingly worried, finally mounting up the stairs and entering her son's messy room. "Severus?" she asked and watched how the heap of blankets moved to the farer end of the bed. _"Severus,"_ Eileen sighed quietly and sat down on the edge of the mattress, reaching her hand to gently pull the sheets off her young son. "Come, the breakfast is ready."

"I am not hungry," Severus mumbled from his hideout and tried to pry his covers back from her grip.

"Still, you have to eat," Eileen lectured quietly, better forgetting that she hadn't been giving her boy any good example in the last few days. "Come," she repeated patiently and after a while was rewarded with Severus sitting up on the bed, shaking the sheets of himself. She smiled for the first time in what felt like ages and caressed her son's sallow cheek with tenderness and care. "We have pancakes today," she tempted and Severus looked up, face already less troubled than just seconds ago. "I like pancakes," he admitted quietly, a shy smile appearing on his face and Eileen nodded. "I know you do." She smiled too and stood, the sudden movement unbalancing her.

_"Mum!"_ Severus cried in alarm as she fell, jumping to his feet. _"Are you alright?"_ The boy was kneeling by her side now, taking her right hand in his both small ones and staring at it in fear.

"Severus?" Eileen asked for explanation, not yet feeling strong enough to stand. _There was nothing wrong with her arm,_ she thought. _She simply hadn't slept or eaten for days and this was the result. She would take some pancakes with Severus and it would be all alright again._

But her small son looked very worried. "It disappeared for a moment," he stammered bewildered and frightened, "Your hand – _disappeared_ – as you fell." Severus looked at her with fear written in his eyes. "It keeps disappearing, mum… It is in my hand, I feel it. But look – it's invisible!" The boy brought his hands up so that she could see them – and her hand was indeed missing between his fingers although she knew it was there, well feeling her son's tight grip around it. "It is invisible, mum," Severus repeated fearfully, his dark eyes unnaturally wide.

_It could be Vanishing Sickness,_ Eileen thought worriedly, relieved now that her mother's harsh words, when she had visited Spinner's End the one and only time short after Severus's birth, had brought her to secretly take Severus to St. Mungo's for the wizarding vaccination that had since some 15 years now included also immunization against this particular illness.

With great sadness, Eileen recalled how she had literally smuggled Severus out of the house back then and Apparated them both to their appointment at the hospital, somehow managing to get back to Spinner's End just 3 minutes before Tobias had returned from work. Tobias had been overprotective of them at that time and she didn't want him to ask her where they had been – knowing that she would be not able to lie to him when directly asked… Eileen had never told her husband that she and very possibly their son too were magical – a decision she should deeply regret for the rest of her life, but nevertheless a decision she had thought very right at the time.

The present Eileen sighed and looked once again at Severus's small hands. Her hand was now again visible between them and she felt stronger as well. Maybe she was mistaken after all and the episode was only some residue of her sudden use of magic those sad ten days ago. She remembered to have once read in a book on magical theory that people who had abandoned their magic might face all kinds of side effects when returning to it – hopefully, this was just one of those cases.

Not yet willing to let go of Severus's hold, Eileen slowly stood, their hands still entwined, and smiled down at her little boy who kept stubbornly sitting on the floor. "It's alright now, see," she said and to prove it, squeezed his hand a little. "Come now! If I am not mistaken, there is a pile of pancakes waiting for us downstairs. _Come_ – or they will get cold!" Eileen pulled the boy gently up, tickling him a little as she did so. After a moment, Severus started laughing and Eileen watched with relief how his almost adult expression became one of a small boy again and how his face brightened with a small smile. Hand in hand, mother and son headed downstairs to really enjoy their first breakfast in eleven days…

ooooo

For another five days, Eileen kept feeling weak but didn't care much since the Saturday vanishing didn't reoccur – or at least so she thought. School started again and so Severus, who was until the episode 14 days ago brought up as a Muggle and thus was enrolled to the local Primary, wasn't much around to tell her. And frankly, who would notice if one of his cheeks or part of his back suddenly became translucent when not standing in front of a mirror and clothed on the top of it?

The sixth morning, Severus didn't find his mother in the kitchen. He thought that she had merely overslept and as he was big enough to make breakfast for himself, he ate and then grabbed his bag and ran to school, quite proud to have helped mum at least a tiny bit. He knew that mother had it hard right then – and still thought it was mostly his fault.

The bad thing was that when Severus returned home in the afternoon, mum still wasn't around. She was neither in the kitchen, nor in their small back garden; there was no note left for him on the table saying that she went shopping or to the post and would be right back. Severus dropped his bag and suddenly very worried, raced up the stairs. He launched the bedroom door open and froze on the spot. Mum's long black hair was spread on her pillow and he could make out her features between their frame – but there were parts of her face that he couldn't see. As last Saturday, her hands were invisible in her sleeves.

_"Mum!"_ Severus cried out when the first shock washed over him and he ran to the bed, reaching for the invisible hands. Luckily, they were still there, but ice-cold and so skeletal that he gasped. _"Mum,"_ the little boy repeated, crushed, tears running down his shallow cheeks, "Mum, wake up! … Please, wake up…" Desperately, Severus lay his head on Eileen's chest and let himself cry.

Many long minutes later when his tears ebbed a little, Severus noticed that mum's chest moved up and down, surprisingly quite steadily. An enormous stone fell of his heart and he started to cry anew, incredibly relieved that she lived. Severus understood that he was to get help – only didn't know how to do it. He didn't think the neighbours would help him, the deaf old couple with bunch of ginger, gaunt cats or the man who according to parents had beaten his wife so badly last summer that she had spent two weeks in the hospital.

_The phone! _Severus jumped, feeling absolutely stupid, and ran the stairs down so fast that he stumbled and almost fell already on the second step. Somehow, he both managed to remain on his feet and make it down the stairs without any further accident – and there he froze. The telephone cable was cut in two – most probably owing to the thief.

Severus's eyes stank with tears and he slid down to the floor in despair when his eyes fell on the strange wooden stick mum had used the fortnight ago to get rid of the thief and save them – it lay right next to the now useless phone. Tentatively, Severus stood and, raising his hand, touched the wood. Greatly startled, the boy felt how it immediately warmed beneath his touch. Hopeful again, he encircled his fingers tightly around the warm wood and picking the miraculous stick up, he run out of the house, flicking with the stick in the air as he had seen mum doing, and shouting: _"Help!"_

ooooo

_St. Mungo's Hospital_

_Guest Room of Vanishing Sickness Ward_

_Early September 1967_

"Here, Mrs. Prince." A young nurse in St. Mungo's green opened the door to the guest room of the Vanishing Sickness Ward to reveal a small boy in Muggle clothes, his eyes red and cheeks wet from crying, sitting, knees pulled to his chest, in a large armchair in the middle of the room. "Call for me if you need anything," the girl said and was away.

An aristocratic looking lady in her late fifties the nurse had accompanied previously, entered the room, looking the crying boy up and down. "Hello Severus," she greeted in a rich voice when she had enjoyed the sight enough, "so we are meeting at last."

The boy stopped crying, startled by her sudden presence in the room. "You are no doctor," he said matter-of-factly, staring at her civil if strange looking clothing. "What are you doing here? You are not taking me away! I have to stay with my mother! I don't mind she is sleeping, I can be really quiet, I promise! I won't wake her."

The woman gently smiled at him, proud of his protectiveness of his mother. "Your mother needs to stay here for a couple of days, Severus, and we will visit her as soon as she gets a little better. But yes, I will take you with me now. Hospital guest room is no place for a seven-year-old boy, my dear."

The lady was nice and Severus found out that he rather liked her, unlike the eternally busy staff of the hospital who had locked him in this room when he wanted to see his mother. But no matter that he was resolved not to let anyone remove him from his mother's proximity. "I am not going anywhere," he repeated and stubbornly stared in front of himself, the tiny arms crossed over his chest.

The lady quite unpredictably laughed. "All your mother and grandfather! The elves will adore you."

Severus looked up carefully. He didn't know what any elves were doing with it but he wanted to know about his grandfather. Mum and dad had never spoken about him and he had visited his grandmother only a couple of times. "Did you know my grandfather Snape?" he asked timidly. "He died before I was born."

"No, not your grandfather Snape, Severus. I spoke about your grandfather Prince, your mother's father," she corrected and was saddened when the ancient, proud name was obviously foreign to him. "Before your mother married your father she was Eileen Prince and lived in the wizarding world. This hospital is part of it. There is also a Ministry of Magic, wizarding school called Hogwarts or the Knight Bus you summoned so cleverly earlier today. You saved my daughter's life with that and even if you would not be my grandson, I would be indebted to you for it and should like you very much. As my grandson, I have loved you since you were born and I am only very sorry that we couldn't meet more frequently in the past. We shall make up for it now, I promise."

Severus was staring at her, her words slowly making sense to him. "You are my grandmother, my mum's mother?" he stuttered.

The lady smiled once more and lowered herself in front of him. Looking him straight in the dark eyes, she confirmed: "Yes, Severus, I am your grandmother. If you allow me to take you home with me now, I will introduce you to your grandfather Prince as well."

Wide eyed, Severus nodded, longing to meet his grandfather and let her take his hand. "But we are coming back to see mum when she wakes up?" he asked one last time and only when she assured him with a soft "I promise." he followed her outside.

ooooo

_A/N: I actually don't like original characters much – but I really needed Bottomley and Severus's grandmother here. And well, Severus's grandmother isn't even exactly an original character, so hopefully you didn't mind (much). (-: Does anyone know her first name? Was it mentioned anywhere? If not, would Cecilia or Clementine Prince suit you?_

_Oh, and sure, a review would be nice. They keep me writing after all._


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